Family Practice
by VirchowsTriadDuet
Summary: It's a Winchester. That much she knows. She has to hide it so that they don't find out. Because if they did, the demon that's chasing her might just kill them in the crossfire. The best bet? Leave them before they know about the baby. Draw the demon away from Sam, Dean, and Cas before the worst happens and they try- and fail- to save her. Allison can handle herself... right?
1. Family Practice

**Author's Note: Vivi's back, y'all! Welcome to my new story, Family Practice. First of all, I want to thank all of the folks who have started following me and my stories. It's awesome to see that y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Sorry it's taken me so long to post this; I planned to wait a week after IM finished, but the first chapter was slow going and I've been super busy. That's life, right?**

 **Now in case you didn't know, this particular story is a continuation of several plotlines from my previous story titled Internal Medicine. If you haven't read Internal Medicine, I highly recommend it (although I am the author so I'm biased). You might have some trouble with some of the details in this story without that background. I'll do my best to explain confusing elements in this story, but getting it from the plot of IM would be so much more satisfying (in my opinion). So, once again, BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER, if you haven't read Internal Medicine, please do (this chapter has MAJOR SPOILERS for IM). Of course, you can also choose not to. Your choice!**

 **Just a few housekeeping things before we get started. I don't own Supernatural or any of the original characters from the show. However, I have laid claim to the unique situations and plotline I have created. Please don't rip off my original characters! I've rated this story M due to language and some graphic, sometimes violent scenes. I'll put trigger warnings in the Authors Note before each potentially hazardous scene as they come along in the plot. I hope to post a new chapter every week or so.**

 **Now that that's out of the way, here is the first chapter of Family Practice, as promised!**

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My alarm went off at its usual five a.m. I greeted the twenty-seventh of June, 2010, with a groan before smashing the buttons on my flip phone to turn the annoying ringtone off.

"Is this what zombies feel like?" I muttered to myself as I shuffled over to my dresser. I pulled out a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and downed the recommended dose. Cas and I had gone to the store earlier in the week, secretly, in the middle of the night. He knew I would need things that I couldn't explain to the guys without them finding out and he was willing to help however he could. I didn't much care for how he hounded me about telling them, but his helpfulness was more than appreciated. After tucking the bottle back under a stack of underwear, I shuffled out into the hallway in the dark. The boilers hadn't kicked on; even though it was summer, the bunker ran a chilly fifty five or so degrees because most of it was so far underground. Not that it mattered much to me at this point. Being pregnant has a way of raising your body temperature a few degrees.

With feet chilled by the tile floor, I made my way in the dark to the kitchen. The coffee machine clicked on just as I entered. I glared at it like it had just insulted me. Earlier in the week Cas stopped me in the hall and suggested I stop drinking coffee. He said it was safer that way. I just knew the machine was rubbing it in like it did every single day.

Every morning, I used to get up and set the old machine myself. But Bobby, since he'd been with us for like a week and a half, had gone out and purchased a larger machine, one that could be programmed. Dean played with it for a good half hour before he got it to work and since then it has been the coffee bearer. Predicable and reliable. Just another thing that made me feel obsolete around the bunker.

I grabbed the last granola bar from the bottom cupboard, cringing as I did so. A twinge of pain shot around my flank and I winced. "Damned binding mark." I growled. The thing had done its job, keeping the demon Francesca from escaping me after I tried to kill her, but it still hurt something fierce. I'd carved it deep into my side with my fingernail and it had gotten mildly infected after Francesca tried to escape the police through the woods. She was so weak after I took my body back for a few minutes. Anyway, Dean hadn't seen the bloody mark when he brought me into the dungeon, so dirt and debris sat in there for days before it got treatment. At least he dug the bullet out of my leg before I bled out.

That was a plus. I thought to myself as I shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom. The granola bar slowly made its way into my stomach. It tasted like cardboard, but if I didn't eat it I would get nauseous.

The hot water from the shower felt nice everywhere but on the binding mark and Dean's bullet wound on my calf. By now, I was used to the pain. I was pretty sure my pain tolerance had skyrocketed since knowing the Winchesters.

Glancing down at my body, I realized just how much I hated my scars as of late. I was covered in patterns of wounds varying in color from white to red from the past two months. Here were four thick, pale ridges over my shoulder from where the Wendigo got me just before I found toddler Dean in that mine. Then there was the bullet graze from when we captured Fisher in the woods. Scars all over the bottoms of my feet from when I ran out of the bunker without shoes after Cas spooked the demon remnant in me. A thin scar through my anti-possession tattoo that a shifter with Sam's face had inflicted to let Francesca into my body after I was kidnapped. Scars in the creases of my elbows from IV's being ripped out. A burn scar around my right thumb from where Francesca had been burned when Dean's blessed silver ring came into contact with spilled water at a bar and made holy water under her hands. And bruises, bruises everywhere from shifters, demons, car accidents, exorcisms, rough CPR… Bruises on my thighs that the guys weren't allowed to see because I didn't want them to be suspicious…

On top of all the marks, the demon had dyed my once beautifully brown hair bright blonde. I hated it. I also hated this short bob, but I'd done that to myself after a near run in with the local PD. If they recognized me, they'd have me lethally injected for sure. Francesca's death toll under my hands was 99 souls. I'd felt the lives of 99 people end at my own hands as the demon used my lips to smile.

At least my location warding tattoo was still intact. I knew there were probably more than a few demons still looking for me. Plus, I really liked that one; it was beautiful to me. Cas had the same one on his side. Mine was right above the anti-possession tattoo on my left flank, just under my bra line. The curves and shapes of the Enochian letters fascinated me and were strangely comforting. I was glad Cas wasn't able to carve my ribs like he did Sam and Dean's. If he had, I may have gotten the location tattoo anyway. That reminded me. My anti-possession tattoo was useless at the moment. It had a chunk missing.

"Really need to get this tattoo fixed." I said to myself as I washed my hair, trying to keep the soap out of my wounds. Any little thing I could do to keep control of my own body was worth it as far as I was concerned. Whenever I lost control, my hands ended up taking at least twenty lives. Of course, I'd have to somehow hide the bruises and the healing binding mark from the artist who would be fixing my ink, but I'd pull it off somehow. Blame it all on a car accident or something…

"Your possession tattoo?" I jumped at the voice and got soap in my bullet wound. I sighed as I let the hot water wash it out to stop the burning.

"Sam, you need to use your crutches." I said over the flow of the water. If he'd been using them, I would have heard him come into the shower room. Obviously, he wasn't following the physical therapist's instructions.

"I am. They're just quieter now that I've got the hang of it again." He replied. "You were talking about your possession tattoo, right? We can get that done later today, if you want. There's a place about an hour from here. I've got nothing planned."

"Why are you up so early?" I asked, not even trying to hide my grumpiness.

"I'm trying to get back in a rhythm. Why are you up so early?" He asked. I heard another shower start up.

"I always get up at five, Sam. I have almost every morning since I've known you." I said. "Don't get that brace wet, or the cast."

"You know you can sleep in a little, right? You don't have to be up at five every day. There are no pressing matters to attend to at five in the morning." He said. His voice was muffled; he must have gotten into the other stall by now. I finished up and shut the water off in my own stall before getting dressed with the curtain still drawn. Sam tended not to mind if someone else was using the shower room and come right in; he'd only caught me half-dressed once. After that, I dressed and undressed in the shower stall when the water was off. Dean was a little more careful. He'd barge in too, but he'd keep his eyes on the ground until he knew it was safe.

"It's an old habit." I said. "Why are you trying to get on a rhythm? Your leg heals faster when you're asleep."

"I've been sleeping a lot lately and I'm starting to feel it. I'm achy and I can tell I'm losing muscle mass." Sam said.

I stepped out of my stall and gathered my things, careful to bend in a way that didn't irritate my side too much. "Hey, speaking of muscle mass, do you think I could work out with you guys? I could use the exercise and if I'm going to help out with future hunts, I need to be physically able to contribute."

Sam's shower stopped and I saw him grab his towel before emerging with it around his waist. His brace hung on the towel rack outside the shower, but he was careful to not put any weight on his bad leg as he left the stall. There was a thick plastic bag taped tightly around the cast on his foot. "Ali, you don't seriously think you need to help us on jobs, do you?"

I blushed and tried to control my eyes. Sure, I knew Sam was gorgeous and every time he walked by my door in a towel, the room got a little hotter, but I hadn't really noticed it until I woke up from my trip to Heaven. I was still impressed that Sam, Dean, and Bobby had managed to restart my heart after I went into cardiac arrest. Those few days after Bobby took Francesca out, I had no intention of coming back at all. If I died, she died. Yet somehow I ended up on the floor of the bunker surrounded by three hunters who were smiling like idiots as I gasped for my own breath and beat my own heart.

If Sam was losing muscle mass, I sure couldn't tell. Before I could stop myself, my eyes went to his anti-possession tattoo. Ours were the same, as was Dean's. I had to close my eyes for a second to get them to focus on Sam's face. He was smirking at me. Damn it. "I want to help. You could use a fourth wheel, right? Add a little stability to your tricycle of crazy?" I returned his smile wholeheartedly.

He laughed. "I wouldn't mind you working out with us, but we'd have to ask Dean if you can join us on jobs. It's his car."

"Alright."

"Want to go get that tattoo fixed later?" Sam smiled. He leaned against the wall and reached for his brace.

"I suppose, but only so you'll stop pestering me about it. Are you going that stir crazy already? It's only been a week and a half." I said.

"You have no idea." He said. I could hear the angst in his voice. He and Dean didn't usually butt heads too often in their down time, but his past week had been rough. Bobby and I were trying to get Dean to cut down on his drinking, which made Dean grumpy. Dean was still sick, which made Dean grumpy. Dean felt the need to look after Sam at all hours of the day, which made Sam grumpy, which made Dean grumpy. Grumpy Winchesters made Bobby grumpy and having so many grumpy people breathing down my back made me tense. Maybe a fieldtrip with Sam would quell my nerves.

"When would you like to go?" I asked.

"That depends. You got any plans?" Sam asked.

"I was gonna make breakfast." I shrugged.

"For yourself?"

I rolled my eyes and snorted. "Sam, when have I ever made breakfast just for myself when someone else was awake?"

"Really Ali, we honestly survived years without someone cooking for us all the time. We can make our own breakfasts." Sam said.

"You know why I cook, Sam." I said, folding my arms over my used towel.

"Yeah, yeah. Stress relief." He smirked, somehow pleased with my stubbornness. "Do we have any blueberries?"

"We're actually running low on almost everything. After breakfast, we should probably head to the grocery store. Where is this tattoo place you mentioned?" I asked, strolling towards the door.

"It's, uh, south of Concordia. We could get supplies on our way back." He said. I heard the straps of his brace tighten up as I put my hand on the door.

"It's a date. I'll see you in a few minutes then." I said casually, leaving the shower room and heading for my bedroom to drop off my things.

All we really had left in the kitchen was flour, some butter, a few eggs, and bread. I made do. One by one, the occupants of the bunker made their appearances. Sam first, of course, since he was already up. He was acting jittery though. I wondered if he snuck a cup of coffee behind my back; his medicines from the hip surgery were pretty strong, even by Winchester standards. I didn't want anything interacting with them and making them worse. It was bad enough that my demon had broken most of his toes, dislocated his hip, and nearly ruined his sciatic nerve. Until Cas was charged up again, Sam was under strict orders to follow a good diet, do his physical therapy, keep weight off his leg, and mostly just relax. Needless to say, that was hard for Sam. I could see why he was trying to get back into a normal rhythm.

Bobby came in shortly after Sam arrived, then Dean, then Cas. The days usually started early in the bunker. I really didn't know why. We weren't actively hunting anything; nothing was actively hunting us. Old habits, I guess.

Bobby and Sam started talking about some people I'd never heard of before. It sounded like casual conversation, nothing important. Still, I tried to pick up as many names as I could. Might come in handy someday.

Pastor Jim, Rufus, Ellen, Walt, Jo, Roy, Garth, and Delilah were a few names that I committed to memory. I seemed to remember having heard of Ellen, Delilah, and Jo before, but I couldn't place exactly when I'd heard of them.

"What's the subject of today's discussion?" Dean asked as he sat down next to me with a big pile of pancakes and a cup of coffee that made me gag a little when the scent reached my nose.

"Ellen's thinking about having a pack day down at the farm. Sometime in the next three months or so." Bobby said. "Heard about it when I was callin' around tryin' a find that box we put the demon in."

I flinched a little when he mentioned the demon so casually. Then again, if he hadn't called in some favors and found the box, they'd have sent the demon back to Hell, where she'd have just broken out and come back for me. This way, with her in that little box on the shelf in room 7B, at least she was contained and predictable. And even though she was closer than I'd like her to be, she was farther than ever from getting at my baby. That's all that mattered.

"She hasn't hosted one of those in… years, I think. Sam, d'you remember when Dad took us to a hunter pack?" Dean asked with a smirk on his face.

"Uh, yeah. Bobby about tore him a new one and I had my first drink. Drinks." Sam laughed lightly.

Dean turned to me and spoke in a hushed tone. "He got plastered and almost fell on his hunting knife. Dad carried him out on his shoulder after he found him in the bathroom passed out. Sam was like twelve."

"You were egging me on, dude." Sam said.

"I thought you were the smart one."

"You told me it was just strong soda. The burn is just from the carbonation, Sam. Don't be a little bitch. Remember, you jerk?"

"Needless to say, Dad didn't let us go to another one." Dean said as he sipped his coffee.

"Smart move on his side." Bobby grumbled. "Shouldn't let kids go to those things at all. Too much drinkin' and too many tall tales. Get kids worked up."

"What exactly is a hunter pack?" I asked as Cas pulled up a chair at the end of the table. He was moving more quickly than earlier in the week, but I could tell he was still achy and drained. Some nights he even slept a few hours. I was terrified when I found him sound asleep in one of the old cars in the garage last week, but Dean reassured me that he sleeps when his mojo is really low. His situation was understandable; he only just regained full access to his grace after the witch's curse was broken. Hopefully he would recover soon and fix Sam's leg and Dean's cold. Then the grumpiness in the bunker could settle down.

"It's an event that some hunters put on to bring other hunters around and get their contact info. Mostly we just swap stories and strategies and drink 'til the sun comes up. 'S a good way to meet helpful people. Also a good way to get a kid in serious trouble." Bobby glared at Dean, then Sam, before returning his gaze to me. "Ellen hasn't had one in a few years and I'm past due on updating my contact list. I go to other packs, occasionally, but hers seems to draw the biggest crowd of seasoned pros."

"So it's like a convention?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam shrugged.

"And Ellen is hosting it?"

"'S what I said." Bobby replied.

"Who is Ellen, then?" I asked just before taking a bite of my pancakes.

"Old friend of mine and John's. The boys have worked with her daughter Jo, against Ellen's will." Bobby took a moment to glare at Dean, who was busy with his pancakes. "She owns a plot a land up in Nebraska. Call it the farm, but they don't have any animals. Just an old farmhouse and a big barn out back that they fixed up after their roadhouse and home burned a couple years back. Demons caught up to 'em." He took a long draw on his coffee.

"A friend of ours, Ash, died in the fire." Sam said somberly. "Ellen and Jo lived with us and Bobby in his house for a few weeks while they found a new place and fixed it up."

"Those two months were brutal." Dean shivered. "Had to go through four menstral cycles with two pissy women. Sam and me were hardly there. Worked like crazy to get away from the crazy."

"And left me to defend myself." Bobby grumbled. "Anyway, they fixed up the barn to host weddings and conferences and the like for those uppity folk who enjoy that sort of thing. They convert it to a bar on the weekends. They're both hunters, but that's how they make a living. Seems to be workin' for 'em."

"When did you say the pack was going to be?" Sam asked. "I'd like to add a few numbers to my contacts. The past few weeks made me realize just how few lifelines we actually have."

"Not for a few months, I don't think. Ellen hadn't decided yet when I called her a couple days ago to tell her we resolved the issue. I'll let you know when she picks a date." Bobby said. I was glad he didn't look at me as he said 'issue'. Maybe he didn't completely hate me.

"Good. Thanks." Sam returned to his pancakes. We ate in silence for a few minutes before Dean got up and went to the coffee machine.

"Anybody else want the last cup? We're out after this one." He said, waiting only a second before pouring it in his cup. He was halfway back to the table when he caught sight of my glass of water; we were out of milk. "Did you get any coffee, Li?" He asked.

"No, after that one cup made me almost throw up a few days ago, I just can't stomach it anymore." I shook my head. "Even the smell gets me."

"You sick or something?" He asked as he sat down. "You've been acting kinda weird since that book cracked you over the head."

I tried to stop the blush from rushing to my cheeks but I failed. The book had hit my head in the Cas-quake when the angel got his mojo back from the witch's binding spell. He pulled me aside after that to tell me I was pregnant. I had a feeling that if I looked at Cas right now, I'd be able to read the phrase 'tell them' in his eyes. Luckily, I'd somehow gotten him to promise not to spill the beans himself. He could pester me all he wanted; I wasn't going to tell them about the baby until I was sure that's what I had to do. In the meantime, I simply looked down at my pancakes and shook my head. "I feel fine."

"Maybe it's the soul thing?" Sam piped up.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped Cas wouldn't break his promise to not tell them about the baby. He'd seen it as a blur before he got his mojo back and told everyone that my soul had gotten brighter. Why wouldn't they just leave the subject alone like I'd already asked several times? "Maybe. But I feel fine. Just because my soul is a little brighter doesn't mean anything is wrong. I thought we agreed to forget about it."

"Right. Sorry." Sam said. He stood and Dean grabbed his plate, putting it under his own before Sam could attempt to take it to the sink. "I can wash my own plate, Dean."

"I can wash it too, Sam." Dean said, taking another big bite of pancake.

Sam rolled his eyes and looked at me. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Ready for what?" Cas asked.

"We're going to fix my tattoo today. And we need groceries. Badly." I said as I finished up my own meal.

"May I suggest an additional tattoo, Allison? It will help with your soul situation." Cas said, his voice casual but his eyes full of that classic intensity.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? Draw it out for me, I'll take it to the artist. See what they can do." I washed my plate and put it away. Sam clicked out to the library on his crutches while I had my back turned.

"When do you plan to leave, Allison?" Cas asked. He was busy scrawling out the tattoo design on some paper he'd found.

"I don't know. Nothing will be open for a few hours still. I was gonna go do some reading."

"What're you reading?" Dean asked.

"Uh, just more demon stuff." I said quickly. Actually, it was the truth. Know your enemy, right? I just didn't want to tell him that I was looking into whether or not demons or witches could track fetuses. I had no idea if my baby was completely safe inside me. Hopefully my location warding would keep both of us safe, but I wanted to be sure.

"Sounds about right." Dean said, joining me at the sink. "Why so jumpy?"

"Dean, you've seen me when I'm jumpy. I'm not jumpy today." I said firmly, trying to quell my nerves. "I haven't even had coffee."

"Yeah, I don't know about that. You still seem uneasy."

"Maybe it's all these testosterone fueled hunters breathing down my neck." I muttered to myself.

"I heard that." Dean said, smiling at me as he washed Sam's plate. "We're gonna get Bobby's house back in a few weeks, once Cas can fix Sam's leg. That'll be at least five percent of the testosterone gone."

"What're you talkin' about, boy?" Bobby snapped from the table. He must have excellent hearing.

"You heard me." Dean grinned like a kid.

"I've got more testosterone in my little finger than you do in your whole body, kid." Bobby said, putting his plate on the counter next to the sink. "Take care of that, kid."

Dean just laughed and added the plate to the sink. Bobby skulked out of the room. I saw this as my opportunity. Dean was in a relatively good mood for once.

"Hey, Dean. I have a question for you." I said, leaning against the counter next to him.

"I have an answer for you." He said, scrubbing at a particularly sticky plate.

"Can I start working out with you guys? I want to be able to help out on jobs and I'm tired of getting hurt all the time." I said quickly. Chancing a quick glance at Cas, I saw him look up from his sketch to send me a wary look. I broke eye contact before Dean noticed.

Dean looked at me with concern plastered on his face. "You don't have to help us on jobs, Li. We can handle ourselves."

"I know that. It's just… I want to help. I feel like a bump on a log staying here all the time knowing I could help you guys with cases." I said.

"You can help us from here. We need a good nerd on call."

"But I want to go with you. I hate being left alone." I crossed my arms, but it felt more like a hug than a gesture of strength.

Dean looked down at me again with a more appraising look on his face. I had a feeling that I knew what was coming next. "You can work out with us, but if you wanna come on jobs, you'll have to pass some tests." He finished washing the dishes and dried his hands. "If you don't pass them, you don't come along. We can't afford to keep one eye on the bad guy and one eye on you all the time."

I smiled; my prediction had been spot on. Dean was all about tests. Granted those tests were usually nearly impossible to pass on the first try, but at least they were doable. "That's what I'm saying. I want to help."

"It'll be hard. We're not gonna go easy on you just because you're a girl." Dean said. It sounded like a warning.

"I know."

"And it'll hurt, the training at least. Aching muscles, bruises, cuts, probably a few black eyes. You'll be bone tired for at least two weeks." He turned away and coughed hard into his elbow a few times before sniffing his nose and turning back to me, both nose and eyes now red. He crossed his arms in front of him and looked down at me with that same appraising look.

"I understand." I said, not daring to glance at Cas.

"You can quit any time, but once you quit you can't take it back up. No second chances, just like the real world."

"Got it. When do we start?" I asked with a confident grin.

Dean's smirk had a little devious pleasure in it. "Right now."

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 **A/N: Well, that was the beginning of Family Practice! Let me know what you think. Questions, comments, casual remarks- all are welcome in the reviews! I love hearing from you and it only takes a second (Guests can review too, by the way)!**


	2. Loopholes and Tight Jeans

**A/N: Vivi here! Welcome back to Family Practice. I've been hard at work building up the plot for this story, but you wouldn't know because the scenes I've been working on are so far into the story already! I really think you're gonna like 'em. Anyway, here's this week's installment, titled Loopholes and Tight Jeans.**

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Four hours later, my arms gave out under me and my face contacted the cement floor. I was nearly in tears; my arms and abs ached, my feet were killing me in my old shoes, and I was pretty sure I lost at least a gallon of sweat already.

"Come on, Princess. Is that all you got?" Dean goaded from a few feet away as he powered through the remainder of his pushups with ease. After a few seconds, he got up and stood over me, grinning like a fool. I looked up at him and scowled. "Don't look at me like that. You asked for this."

"I did, and I'll finish as soon as I can move my arms again." I growled, willing my arms to take their position under my body once more.

"Oh, but the black dog already tore the muscle from your leg. You're dead meat now." Dean said, coughing lightly.

"Shut up, dude. This is my first time. You do this every freaking day. And there're no black dogs in America."

"Sure there are. There's one in Connecticut and a bunch in Latin America." He said as he paced around me. I'd managed to resume the pushups, but they were slow going and much more difficult than I'd imagined. My arms burned with the effort of pushing up my own weight.

"Then why hasn't anyone taken them out?" I panted.

"They're mostly just death omens. And usually people don't mark the location where they bury their pets, if those black dogs even had owners. Those suckers are hard to kill." Dean said.

I finished my reps and sat back on my heels, my arms feeling like noodles. "Is it done? Are we done yet?"

Dean smiled and offered a hand to help me up. I felt unsteady on my feet and leaned against the wall of the range/exercise room as he spoke. "Yeah, it is your first day after all. I'll go easy on you, just for now."

"This was easy?" I balked.

"Yeah. Just wait until tomorrow." He winked at me before turning and leaving. I closed my eyes and wondered why I ever thought this was a good idea.

It was difficult to get back to the library. There were a few steps in my way, which I walked over like a drunken giraffe. Sam laughed when he saw me enter. He still hadn't stopped laughing when I fell into the chair opposite him.

"What's so funny?" I glared at him, feeling my abs and arms throb with every beat of my heart.

He caught his breath and tried to stop the flood of laughter. "First day, huh? I take it Dean's onboard?"

"Yeah, but I have to pass his tests." I shrugged. "Better than outright refusal."

"Oh man." He finally managed to get the giggles under control. "So, are you gonna shower before we go or what?"

"Oh, right, we were gonna go do stuff. Let me sit a while. I can't really feel my legs at the moment." I folded my arms on the table and let my head rest on them. Slowly, the feeling, or aching, rather, returned to my legs. They still felt like noodles, but at least now I could probably make it to the shower room and back without falling.

"We don't have to go if you aren't up for it." Sam said after I heaved a long sigh.

"No, we need groceries. And the sooner I get this tattoo fixed, the better." I said, standing.

"Want to use my crutches?" Sam asked with a grin.

"No." I grumbled. On unsteady feet, I stumbled to my bedroom, gathered my things, and then proceeded to stumble to the shower room. Washing all the sweat away and cooling off felt great. If only the water could make my muscles feel better. "I asked for it. I want to help." I chanted as my arms refused to move as fast as I wanted them to as I dragged my fingers through my blond hair.

Back in the library after finishing up, I clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Let's go. I want to get there before it closes."

He looked up at me from the book he'd been reading. "Still up for it? We don't have to go."

"Get in the damn car, Sam." I growled, not waiting for his reaction. Heading to the kitchen, I found Cas' sketch and the angel himself, using Sam's laptop to watch a television show online.

"Is this the final draft?" I asked, picking up the paper.

"Yes." He said shortly, never tearing his attention from the program.

The design he'd drawn consisted of a lot of words I didn't know and one very interesting symbol in the middle. It was like three hearts joined at the base, with a triangle as the fourth appendage, and a plus sign under that. There was what looked like an asterisk hovering above the middle heart. The words encircled the symbol, written in Cas' neatest handwriting. I knew he didn't like writing by hand, so I was impressed that the words, even though I didn't know what they meant, were legible. "Hey, Cas? What do all these words mean? And the symbol?"

Cas finally paused his show and glanced around the room so see if we were alone. I was glad he did that; I'd completely forgotten and I wouldn't have blamed him if a Winchester overheard us. Seeing that he coast was clear, he pulled my hands down so he could read what he'd written. "Like most phrases in Enochian, this one doesn't translate particularly well. In its most basic interpretation, it reads 'protect the harbor within from evil and ruin; speak to the angel Castiel upon the strange'. It sounds better in Enochian, but English has always been a rather inefficient language regardless."

"I'd agree with that. So this is a protection thing, right? For the baby. Protect the baby and tell you… What does 'the strange' refer to?" I asked, my skin crawling a little at the awkward wording.

"Any ill occurrences. Birth defects, hypoxia, excessive stress, any kind of damage." Cas said.

"So it'll tell me if anything is wrong?"

"No. It will tell me." Cas said flatly.

"How will it tell you?" I asked. "It's just ink."

"The symbol carries out that duty. It's a powerful protection sigil. You'll feel a tug when it's working. I'll receive a sort of… remote view of what is happening. Depending on the severity of the situation, I may go to you or hold off until a better time. See if the issue resolves itself. You will, however, need to tell me your location. Your warding makes it impossible for me to find you."

"I see. So if I feel it tug, I need to pray you my location asap." I said softly, pausing a moment before continuing. "This might be a stupid question, but… Can you check right now?"

Cas' eyes narrowed. "Why would I need to check the child at this moment?"

"I just want to make sure my new exercise routine isn't hurting anything." I sent him a sheepish grin and hoped he'd give in. After an extended episode of uncomfortable eye contact, he closed his eyes and pressed one palm gently against my flat, and sore, stomach. The action felt strange, but not uncomfortable.

"I can't find anything wrong." Cas said. "Are you satisfied?"

"Yeah, thanks Cas. I really appreciate you helping out like this. I never expected…" I trailed off, unable to find the right words to adequately thank my friend.

"A guardian angel?" Cas guessed, his eyes wandering to the floor.

"I guess so." I said softly.

"I used to find great purpose in healing children. Before I was assigned to the garrison. Before we were assigned to rescue Dean." He said. With eyes focused far away, a tiny smile lit his face. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. His eyes came back into focus. "Please try to keep out of immediate danger, Allison. If the child were to perish before I arrive, there would be little I could do. I'm not welcome in Heaven at the moment and my ties there have become strained."

"I… I understand. I'll be careful." I said, the weight of his words sinking deep into my heart. One wrong move in a hand to hand fight and I could lose the baby. Cas wouldn't be able to get their soul back.

"Can you pick up peanut butter?" Cas said as he started his show up again. "We're out."

I was somewhat taken aback by his request. "Can you even taste it anymore? I thought you were an angel again." I said as I snapped back to reality.

"When I am as excessively weak as I am now, I can barely taste it through the molecules." Cas said. "The silver lining, as Dean would say."

I smiled and rolled my eyes. "I'll add it to my list."

My legs ached as I walked out to the little red convertible that was significantly older than me. Sam was already in the passenger seat. "What took you so long?" He asked.

"I was getting the tattoo sketch from Cas." I said, handing him the paper as I carefully sat down in the driver's seat. I knew he couldn't read it, so I had no problem with him seeing it.

"What's it say? Did you ask?"

Well, time to lie again. Think fast, Ali. "Yeah. It's a protection from illness sigil." Not technically a lie, I guess…

"Oh. Alright." Sam said as we pulled out of the driveway and began our hour long trip to Concordia. I was surprised by how easy it was to quell his curiosity.

"So, radio?" I asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Uh, if you want." He said.

I glanced over at him. He looked uncomfortable. "You okay, Sam?" I asked. "Why so tense? Does your leg hurt?"

"No, and I'm not, I'm just… I haven't been out in public on my crutches yet." He said, avoiding eye contact. I couldn't press that issue, seeing as I was driving.

"Why does that make you tense? You've been on crutches before, right?" I asked. He was hiding something. I just knew it.

"Yeah, but… I don't know. I'm probably just working myself up over nothing." He continued to stare out the window.

"You can tell me anything, Sam. You know that, right? I'm pretty good about keeping secrets." I said as we finally got to the highway.

"I know." He looked down at his hands folded in his lap and was quiet for a few minutes. The silence was driving me crazy and I was about to reach for the radio when he spoke up again. "What did you and Dean do today?"

"He had me do lots of basic exercises and explained why I needed to do them. I wouldn't have guessed that you guys have to jump out of graves and climb stuff so much for these jobs of yours. We didn't even run today. It was just muscle building stuff." I said. "He did it all with me, of course, but he made me do as much as he did. It was awful."

"And you were able to do as many as he does?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I mean it took me a lot longer, but I managed." I shrugged. "Why?"

"I just didn't expect that."

I glanced at him. He was staring out the window. "Why not? I've kept up with you two for the past few weeks, haven't I?"

"You have, it's just that I hadn't anticipated you being able to do as much as you apparently can."

"Do you have a problem with that?" I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. His statements seemed to be a mix of surprise and concern.

"No. No problem. I wanted to help you train but until Cas is recharged, I can't do anything physical with you." Sam said, frustrated. "This whole leg thing has me at a disadvantage."

"Well, it's not like you need to be running anytime soon." I said. "I hope."

Sam grinned. "Nothing weird has been happening in our neck of the woods. I wouldn't worry about it. And I could still outrun you on my crutches, I bet."

"Doubt it." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"You had to hold the wall to get up the stairs, Ali."

I'd forgotten just how sore my legs were at the moment. "Details, details."

He smiled knowing that he'd won our little tiff. "I could help you train in other ways. Dean could take the physical aspects of it and I could help you sharpen your marksmanship."

"Sounds like a plan." I said. "But I don't have a gun."

"We have plenty." Sam said.

"What if I said I wanted my own?" I stated innocently, glancing at Sam to gauge his reaction. In the past, they'd taken very good care to not leave dangerous things around the bunker. When I was possessed the first time, every sharp thing seemed to call out to me and on occasion, I answered. The guys removed said objects after the third time Sam had to stitch my arm closed. I wasn't exactly sure where they kept them now. Even after they'd trapped the demon in that box, they hadn't replaced the confiscated items.

Sam looked at me. "We don't really have our own guns, Ali. Well, I mean, Dean has his .45, but that's been his since Dad gave it to him for his thirteenth birthday. Usually we just share the arsenal. You need it, you take it, you put it back when you're done."

"I was thinking a little pink handgun would prove itself useful." I said, trying to make my voice sound even more feminine. "Something I could stash away in my clothes for a special occasion."

"You really want a pink gun?" Sam chuckled. "That's so impractical. They'd see it coming a mile away."

"And a silver gun with a pearl handle is more camouflaged?"

"Okay, fine. I get it. Why don't we see if you pass Dean's tests before we finish this conversation? If you can't pass, what's the use in getting a gun at all?" Sam said.

I glared at him. "I'll need one regardless. Whether or not I pass, I'm coming with you guys on cases."

"Didn't you and Dean agree-"

"We agreed that if I didn't pass, I couldn't come along. He didn't say anything about me following you to the location. I just can't come along with you. I'll work the case alone if I have to."

"Ali, seriously? You're gonna loophole Dean?"

"Seriously Sam. If I fail those tests, it'll be my only choice. I can't let you go risk your lives alone when I know I can help. How could I live with myself if I knew you two were killed when I could have done something about it?"

Sam sighed. "You're getting to be more and more like a Winchester all the time, you know that?"

"I had a feeling." I winked at him to try and lighten the mood. I could have sworn he blushed, but his head turned to look out the window before I could really tell.

We went to the tattoo parlor first. It was a little storefront in downtown Concordia with lots of neon in the window. It was a beautiful day; light wind, warm and dry, curled its way through the streets and alleys, mixing the smells of many restaurants and businesses and taking them far into the city. The smell inside the parlor was different than the street. No more hints of Chinese food in the air. Now I could smell metallic tones and a hint of something that seemed like peaches.

"How's it goin'?" A smiling woman asked from behind a tall desk in the lobby.

"Good. I have a design I'd like to see about getting." I said. Sam stood behind me, leaning heavily on his crutches but looking no worse for wear. His presence was reassuring; new places wigged me out a little.

"Did you have an appointment?" The woman asked.

"No."

"Okay. Let me see if I have anybody free at the moment." The woman said. "Is there anybody you'd like to see specifically?"

"As long as they can replicate my drawing, I'm fine with anyone."

"Cool beans. Gimme one minute, hun." The woman jumped down from the stool she'd been sitting on and walked back into the store. It was an open room; two other people were being worked on just beyond the desk.

A few minutes later, the woman returned with a taller, red headed woman behind her. "This is Tish. She'd be happy to work with you."

"Awesome. I'm Ali." I said, shaking the woman's hand.

"Good to meet ya. Come on back. Bring your handsome friend." Tish winked at Sam. A little flare of something unfamiliar rose in my gut, but before I could identify it, the feeling was gone. I followed Tish to her station, decorated heavily with old looking photos and concept drawings. "Lexi mentioned you had a design already?"

"Yeah." I produced Cas' drawing and handed it to her. She appraised it for a few seconds before nodding.

"I can do this. No problem. Where we puttin' it?"

"Right thigh?" I suggested. Cas hadn't said where the best place would be. My left flank was filled with two other tattoos, my right flank had the still healing binding mark carved in it, and I needed this tattoo to be somewhere that wasn't going to stretch too much as my belly grew. My right thigh, not the left since the scar from a bullet graze claimed that one, seemed as good a place as any. And the artist probably wouldn't see any suspicious injuries or scars while working there.

"Sounds good to me."

"Oh, and I have another tattoo that got a chunk taken out. I just need it filled in."

"Can do."

Tish got right to work. The three of us talked about nothing in particular for about an hour as she made my leg into a piece of art. I asked her to try and keep Cas' handwriting intact. I knew the font didn't matter much for the sigil, I'd read as much in many books, but the thought of keeping his handwriting with me was somewhat comforting. He was one of my best friends, after all.

"Well, hey there little hunter." A voice boomed out from behind me as the clock rounded the hour. I whipped my head around to see who was talking, and who they were talking to. Behind me stood a heavily tattooed man who was smiling looking down at me like he knew me.

"Hi." I said carefully. Why had he called me a hunter? Did he know about us? About hunting? Maybe he knew Sam and just figured I was in the business too. But then why would he announce it out loud in public? Anything could be out there, listening.

"See you got a different beau already. Quite the prowler, eh?" The man clapped a hand down on Sam's shoulder and laughed. "And I thought the first one was tall."

My eyes narrowed as I struggled to place any ounce of recognition with the man before me. Then it hit me. "Tim? From Missouri?"

"She remembers me." He chuckled. "What brings you out west, Ali-cat?"

"Ali-cat?" Sam asked, glancing from me to Tim.

"He gave me the script tattoo on my side." I told Sam, careful not to give away what it actually was. "Remember when Cas and I met you in Centerville?"

Sam thought for a moment before realization shone in his eyes. "Right. I remember that. Cas took you to get that one before we met up with Dean." In a mine. Filled with Wendigoes. In the freezing cold.

"Yeah. Uh, we live out here now, Tim." I said as Tish continued her work, unfazed. Surprisingly, the buzzing of the needle didn't bother me much. Sure, it stung occasionally, but I didn't need to hold Sam's hand like I'd needed to hold Cas' for the first tattoo. The Winchester pain tolerance was wearing off on me.

"So do I. Funny we meet up in another state. How'd those two ink spots treat ya, anyway?" Tim asked.

"They're still just as beautiful as the day you put them on." I said. "Except I fell and took a chunk out of one of them. I was hoping to get it fixed before I leave today."

"Tish is good with quick fixes. Mind if I check it out while she's workin'? See if it's even fixable?" Tim asked.

"Uh, sure." I carefully lifted the left side of my shirt to show him the possession tattoo with the sliver missing. He wedged himself between Sam and me to look down at it. He thumbed the section that was gone like he was appraising the damage. Then, his voice little more than a whisper, he asked me a question.

"Are you being trafficked? Do these men hurt you?" Tim asked directly into my ear.

"No." I replied. "You asked that last time, too. No one hurts me, or earns money off of me, or makes me do things I don't want to do. Really, Sam is my friend." My voice was as quiet as his.

He stood and smiled. "Looks good. Tish should be able to fix it up no problem, right Tish?"

The woman nodded without looking up. "You know I'm good at what I do, Tim. That's why you hired me."

"Is this your shop?" I asked.

"New and improved." Tim smiled. "The old one didn't get a lot of business. Wife and me moved here seeking greener pastures. And to be closer to her mum. Happy wife, happy life, right?"

"Sounds about right." I smiled back at Tim.

"Well, I hope to see you back sometime soon, Ali and Sam. You're always welcome here." Tim sauntered into the back room and out of sight.

Tish finished the sigil and repaired my other tattoo in the following half hour. I regretted wearing tight pants today, but the pain wasn't too bad. It certainly wasn't the worst I'd ever felt.

"Tim, huh?" Sam asked as we headed out to the car after paying.

"What about him?"

"Seems awful friendly."

"He thinks I'm being trafficked." I said, matter of factly. "Cas gave him the creeps when he brought me in to get my first tattoo. I think that's why he remembered me."

"He thinks we're selling you?" Sam asked as we got in the car and pulled away, headed for the grocery store.

"I told him you weren't. He must see a lot of shady activity as a tattoo shop owner. I'm glad he's vigilant."

There were several minutes of easy silence in the car as we made our way across town to the market. "You don't feel… taken advantage of, do you?" Sam asked, looking at me. I couldn't meet his gaze; it was nearly rush hour and the road was packed full of cars. My attention was on the tons of metal careening down the highway.

"No. You guys give me housing. You buy me food. You buy me clothes. I feel taken care of." I said simply. They really had been very good to me. Never had they asked me to get a job, even though I could probably support us with a full time job. Never had they expected me to do anything besides take care of myself. "Why would I feel taken advantage of?"

"Dean and I aren't exactly around all the time." Sam said. "And you keep the bunker running smoothly even though we don't ask you to."

"You don't have to ask me to help you guys out." I said.

"I know. Thank you for everything you do, Ali." Sam said. "These last few weeks have been rough, but hopefully we can smooth things out and get back into a rotation of chores like we had going before. Maybe I won't feel so guilty when I can help out again."

"You had chores before?" I asked.

"Well, yeah. Dean and me would take turns doing stuff around the bunker. Granted, I took more turns than he did, but we worked it out. If you're going to start working with us, we'll all need to pitch in around the bunker so we can get the important stuff done."

"I like the sound of that." I said, smiling.

"Wait until you walk in on Dean cleaning the toilets. It's hilarious."

* * *

Tight jeans and a new thigh tattoo: bad idea. It was aching by the time we finished shopping and arrived back at the bunker. Cas helped me put the groceries away, but even with help I was exceedingly grumpy when we finished.

It was already late by that time, so I retreated to my room and changed into sweatpants and an old T shirt that one of the guys had grown out of. Sweet relief.

"Li? You in there?" Dean knocked at my door. I rolled my eyes and went to greet him.

"Yes." I opened the door to see Dean, his eyes bloodshot, his nose red. "Is your cold getting worse again?"

"No. I just have a friggin' tap for a nose at the moment. You good to train tomorrow, or are you gonna call it off?" He asked.

I crossed my arms and let the bitchface settle in its rightful place. "I'm good to go, first thing tomorrow."

He seemed mildly surprised. "You know it'll be harder tomorrow. A full day of training instead of just a few hours."

"I get it, Dean. I'll see you at five tomorrow." I said, shutting the door.

"You can quit anytime." He yelled through the thick wood.

"So you've said. Good night, Dean."

"No shame in giving up." He yelled. I didn't even grace that statement with a response. No shame in giving up? He just didn't want me to charge into danger like they did. I wished he'd stop treating me like a little girl. "Nice tattoo by the way."

I'd forgotten to put on sleep shorts. My face glowed red. At least this shirt covered everything important. I sincerely hoped he wasn't going to bring this incident up ever again. That would be just my luck.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! I love hearing your thoughts and believe it or not, your comments sometimes help me make critical plot choices. You never know how much your review could influence the story! Until next week, my friends!**


	3. Ginger Ale and a Futon

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry this is a day later than planned. Anyway, this chapter has some violence and possible swearing (I don't remember exactly) so take this as your warning. I'm hoping to switch my posting day to Fridays or Saturdays as opposed to Tuesdays, just because more people are available to read it then. I hope you enjoy this third chapter of Family Practice titled Ginger Ale and a Futon.**

* * *

The next two weeks were rough. Physical training started promptly at six in the morning, after Dean and I had breakfast. We didn't take a break until lunch, usually around noon if I was doing well or Dean was hungry. I'd never worked so hard in my life, not on anything. Medical school wasn't even this hard.

Bobby sat with me for two hours after lunch, teaching and quizzing me about the various creatures that he was familiar with. I learned how to exorcise demons and memorized the exorcisms he knew. I learned how to kill shifters, vampires, and werewolves. He taught me the lore behind anything and everything he could think of and I was expected to memorize it and recite it on the spot. Sometimes he even quizzed me in the evenings, late at night after my training was supposed to have ended for the day. "In the real world, you have to know everything all the time. What if a djinn sunk up on you and attacked? How would you fight back and kill it?" It was exhausting. I was always happy when his two hours were over and Sam arrived in the library with a smile and a gun.

Sam took the next two hours of every day to show me how to shoot all the different guns they'd collected over the years, how to clean and maintain them, and how to use them as a blunt weapon if I ran out of ammunition. He did a lot of strategizing with me. I never realized how many ways there were to fight with a gun.

At around five o'clock, Dean usually showed up in the doorway and we moved to my favorite part of the day: hand to hand combat. I loved it. The thrill made me feel more alive than I'd felt in a long time. The anxiety of knowing that Dean could accidentally kill my baby was the only part that I dreaded. I told him that I had a really sensitive stomach and that if he hit me there, I'd throw up on him. He grudgingly agreed to avoid that area. However, that didn't keep him from leaving my arms and legs covered in light bruises at the end of every session. I took to wearing thick, long sleeved shirts to try and soften the impacts. In the first week, we worked with wooden poles of varying lengths and daggers wrapped in several layers of duct tape to dull them. Even through my layers of clothing, they still hurt; I had burns from where Dean caught my skin and mimicked a perfectly fatal wound. The second week, we focused on literal hand to hand combat. Sparring.

Facing a guy like Dean head on with just my body to protect me was terrifying. He had several inches on me. His arms were longer. He weighed a lot more. He had decades of experience above and beyond what I'd even attempted. And true to form, he did not go easy on me. As promised, I had a miniscule shiner after the first day. He apologized profusely and got me ice for it. Sam almost ripped him a new one; I could hear them going at it as Dean came back with the ice. I could tell he felt terrible even though I was the one who tripped and fell onto the barbell he didn't put away.

When I fell, I panicked for a few seconds and almost told him I was pregnant and that we had to go to the hospital. Then I remembered, from my time at med school, that I would likely get hurt pretty bad before the baby got hurt in a fall. The little peanut was in a protective sleeve of muscle and fluid after all. And I had Cas' protection tattoo, which didn't pull at all as I sat on the floor, holding my eye, on the verge of tears as Dean apologized over and over.

After that, Dean redoubled his efforts, pushing me harder and longer than we usually trained. But no matter how hard Dean tried to get me to give up, I refused. I knew he didn't want to see me fail just for the sake of rubbing it in my face. He wanted me to give up because in his mind I would be safer as the bunker nerd. Silently, I agreed with him. However, I was not about to let them leave me behind when I had so much to offer. I'd already decided that I needed to gain all the knowledge and skill I could now, where it was safe to do so, before I followed them into the real world and possibly made a fool of myself. If I screwed up bad enough, I would be sentenced to the role of bunker nerd.

Sam watched us spar most days, giving me helpful hints now and then. I appreciated his feedback, but I didn't think that he was there to critique my style. He rarely left us alone after I got my black eye. I think he wanted to make sure Dean wasn't taking my training too fast.

By the time my third week rolled around, I was feeling pretty awesome. I could tell how much stronger I'd gotten. I even saw a tiny increase in my muscle mass. On the rare day when Dean had us go jogging outside, before the sun came up, I was able to keep pace with him. Well, if he was jogging. When he decided to run, it was all I could do not to lose sight of him.

Then it happened. The three of us were in the range/exercise room. Sam had just finished teaching me how to use the HK91 rifle and Dean arrived, ready to spar. We faced off as usual, after wrapping our hands. He always took the first shot; I always blocked it. After that, he was hard to predict. I had plenty of bruises and sore spots to prove that. But today, I was feeling good. I was feeling strong. And it showed.

He started our match with a right hook. I deflected it and grabbed his arm, pulling hard to put him off balance. As soon as his back was to me, I kicked hard, my shin connecting with the backs of his knees. He fell flat on his behind and looked at me like I was possessed again. I smiled in amazement and looked excitedly to Sam, who was smiling and laughing at Dean.

"Yeah, laugh it up, Cousin Itt. I can still kick your ass." Dean grumbled, getting to his feet. "Two out of three."

Dean won the two out of three, but I had already floored him once. In my eyes, that was pretty good for a novice with three weeks of experience. After his last victory, he reached down and offered a hand to help me up. "Nice work. If you ever try that again, though, I'll floor you before I hit the floor."

I took his hand and got to my feet smiling. "No promises."

"Why don't we take the night off tonight, eh?" Dean said, unwrapping his hands. "We've been going at this pretty hard for weeks now. Let's take a break. Maybe go out, have some fun."

"Sounds good to me." Sam said from where he sat on the edge of one of the shooting booths.

"Sure." I said, a little disappointed. I knew they hadn't had a guy's night in a while, so I wasn't surprised that Dean wanted to spend time with Sam, but I was feeling a little left out. Unwrapping my hands, I tried to decide what I wanted to do for the rest of the evening to drown out the embarrassing dejection. It was only like five thirty. How could I avoid Bobby for the next six hours? "I'll just be studying in my room. I won't wait up."

As I turned to leave the room, Dean spoke up. "Li, you're coming too."

I turned back, surprised. "What?"

"Did you think we were just going to leave you here with Bobby for a couple hours while we unwind?" Sam asked, getting up.

"Well, you've left me behind before." I said.

"Yeah, but now you can defend yourself." Dean said. "We don't have to watch you all the time. Just… most of the time."

I smiled. "Where are we headed?"

* * *

"Is this… a furniture store?" I asked as we pulled up to a rather large building that read Dayton's Relaxation Destination in big blue letters over the door. In the window, several recliners and sofas with decorative lamps on tables beside them seemed to call out to all who passed by.

"Sure is." Dean said with his business face on.

"Dean, why are we at a furniture store? I thought you'd go straight to a bar." Sam said.

"I wasn't kidding about needing a couch, Sam. I'm tired of my butt going numb in those chairs. And you need somewhere to rest that leg until Cas recharges." Dean said as he got out. Sam and I followed behind and soon lost him in the massive showroom.

There were several other customers browsing the many colors and patterns and styles of sofa and chair and bed. Sam and I decided to wander around and let Dean find what he wanted on his own. We strolled down aisles of armchairs and loveseats, mattresses and tables of all shapes and sizes. It was nice to just browse for a change. Usually I was so concerned about being spotted and identified by passersby or police that I stuck strictly to my list and never veered from the shortest path. In my wanderings through dressers and decorative chairs, something caught my eye.

"Hey, check this out." I waved Sam over and pointed excitedly at the treasure I'd found.

"Is that a chair shaped like a shoe?" Sam asked, amused and confused at the same time.

"Not just any shoe, Sam. A high heel. A hot pink high heel." I sat down in the shoe chair and smiled. The thing really was hilarious to look at. Plush, soft, and blindingly bright pink. Just my speed.

"I don't think that can come within a hundred feet of the bunker." Sam said, smiling. "Bobby and Dean might explode."

"Oh, come on. It's just a chair." I said teasingly.

"What about this one?" Sam moved on towards the sofas. With a sigh, I got out of my new favorite chair and followed him.

"Wow. That's a huge sectional." I said, taking in the ten seater. It was pleather, but the nice kind that is durable and looks well made. The dark brown would match the bunker well, but there would be no way for us to get it inside.

"Yeah. No one would need to sleep on those cots anymore. If I had a man cave, this would totally be the centerpiece." Sam said, making a grand gesture to the couch of his dreams.

We continued to wander around the store for a few more minutes, rounding out the hour. I did most of the sit testing since Sam had a hard time getting up and down with his brace and crutches. Eventually, we found Dean in a little corner display to futons.

"Check it out. Eight inches of padding on this one." Dean said from where he was laying across a particularly large futon. "And it can be a bed or a couch."

"Are you really going to buy a bright red futon? It's almost pink." Sam asked, distaste evident in his tone.

"I like it." I said, smiling up at Sam with my best shit eating grin. He rolled his eyes at me.

"Hell yes. It's on sale. And the lovely lady approves." Dean got up and found a floor salesman with whom he managed to haggle the price down even further. In no time, we had a futon worth of boxes and parts stuffed in to the Impala; the trunk was full of it and some even managed to crowd me in the backseat.

"Now, on to the second order of business." Dean said as we pulled away from Dayton's.

"Assembling the thing?" Sam guessed.

"No. Beer."

"No more than three, Dean, okay?" I said from the back seat. "I don't want to have to tattle on you to Bobby."

He rolled his eyes from the rear view mirror. "I know what I can drink, Li. I don't get why you guys are trying to fix something that ain't broke."

"Dean, you drank yourself to sleep every night that you had Ali in the dungeon with the demon and you didn't stop drinking heavily until like two weeks ago, when Bobby threatened to take the door off your room and shred it. We're just concerned that maybe you took it too far and are having trouble stopping."

"I know my limits, Sam. I don't need a friggin' chaperone telling me what to do." We pulled into the parking lot of a rough looking bar. Well, it looked rough to me. The only bars I had frequented in my former life were also restaurants. I'd never had more than one drink at a time.

"Yeah, well, humor me." Sam said. Inside, the bar was loud. The music was too loud to talk comfortably, strangers spoke loudly to one another, pool balls crashed, and the occasional whoop could be heard when the blurry football players on the little screen in the corner did something the patrons approved of. The worst part was that I would have no way to numb the headache all this noise was giving me. No alcohol for baby.

The guys went straight to the bar and I followed reluctantly behind them. When the bartender came up, they got what they wanted and I got a ginger ale. I was hoping it would quell my headache and the slow burn I felt growing in my stomach.

"Ginger ale?" Dean turned to me and asked over the roar of patrons celebrating a touchdown.

"Yeah. I just have a stomach ache. I don't want to poke the bear, y'know?" I shrugged, taking a sip and cherishing the way it bubbled all the way down before starting its work. I took another big gulp.

"You're not pregnant, are ya?" He asked.

I sputtered and almost lost my mouthful of soda. Swallowing hard, I looked at him, dumbfounded. How did he know? I wasn't showing, not now. Not five weeks in. There was no way he could have found out. Unless Cas spilled my secret… But Cas had promised not to tell them. He promised.

Maybe Dean was just connecting the dots and guessing about my recent behavior. Asking him to avoid my stomach in training. Talking to and going out with Cas alone all the time. Declining the aspirin he offered after practice when I'm sure he knew I was suffering. Ordering ginger ale instead of anything that had alcohol at a bar. If he was really just guessing, I should be able to wiggle my way out. There was no way he could have known about the baby…

"Seriously, Dean? You know I have a sensitive stomach and the first thing you jump to when I'm feeling gross is pregnancy? Isn't that kind of a stretch?" I asked, setting my face in firm irritation.

"Just makin' sure." He looked me up and down skeptically before taking a swig of his first beer. "You know how to play pool?"

Sam and Dean took the next few hours to teach me how to play (and hustle) pool. I'd played before but I was never very good. I still wasn't very good. By the time we left, I'd lost five games to the guys and a few other folks we met at the bar. Dean, however, was counting his winnings as we walked to the Impala in the dark.

"We coulda had another round, y'know. There's plenty to go around now." Dean said, taking out his wallet.

"You hit your three beer limit for today and tomorrow, dude. We have stuff to do in the morning. You know that." Sam said. As we got in the car, I made a mental note to let Bobby know about how much Dean had to drink tonight. I was glad Sam counted, because the nausea didn't go away with my ginger ale and it was hard to concentrate on anything with that nasty feeling.

"You really know how to have fun, don't you grandma?"

"So that's how you buy supplies, then? You hustle pool and use the cash to buy all that stuff that can't be easily bought with a card?" I said, as we pulled away from the bar.

"Yeah. It puts guns and silver bullets on the table." Dean said.

"It's better than stealing the stuff we need." Sam said. "At least this way we can't be put on the police watch list again. Well, as long as we're careful."

"I'm already on the watch list. Guess I've ruined that for you. You could be sentenced as accomplices if we're found together."

"We've been arrested plenty of times already, Ali." Sam said.

"Yeah, there's always a way out. Sammy jumped out a window once. Remember that?" Dean asked, smirking at his brother.

"Yes. We only got caught because they found you with the vic's blood literally on your hands." Sam said, slightly annoyed.

Dean turned to me to explain himself. "Turns out an officer of the law was selling heroin on the streets and killed everybody who knew what he did. One of the victims became a death omen. That's what caught our attention."

"That was a weird case." Sam said.

"Not as weird as those man-hunters up in Minnesota."

"Okay, I'll agree with that."

"Man-hunters? Is that a kind of monster I haven't learned about yet?" I asked.

"No, they were just people. Sick, twisted people who kidnapped travelers and hunted them in the woods. Kept trophies from their kills too. Imagine a wind chime of bones; long bones, pelvic bones, jaw bones..." Dean shivered slightly. "Sammy got taken and I rescued his sorry ass."

"Dean, you got sidelined by a thirteen year old girl." Sam said.

"Ah, shut up."

"Just sayin'." A devious smile spread across Sam's face and Dean swatted his arm.

"So it's not always a monster that does these weird things then?" I asked.

"No. People are crazy. Unpredictable." Sam said. "Our usual suspects have rules, patterns. People? Not the case."

"That's kind of terrifying." I said quietly. "I've just been blaming all the bad things on monsters since I found out they were real."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Princess." Dean said. There were a few minutes of silence as the Impala sped down the highway. I always took comfort in its familiar growl, the sound of rubber on road, the gentle sway and welcoming scent of the seats. If I wasn't careful, I'd fall asleep now that the sun wasn't up.

"Hey, speaking of bursting your bubble." Dean glanced at me in the rear view mirror. For a split second, I was worried that he'd bring up the pregnancy thing again. Maybe he was just testing me earlier, seeing if I'd willingly tell him the truth. Maybe he really did know. If he brought it up in front of Sam, there would be no easy way out. "We got a surprise for you tomorrow."

"You haven't told her yet?" Sam asked, surprised.

"No, it's a surprise."

"Dude, really? It's a pretty big test-"

"Don't ruin it, Sam." Dean said. "Besides, she'll need to be on her toes in the real world. Why not start now?"

"What is it?" I asked. "Is it my first test? What am I doing, what's it over?"

"See, Sam, now she knows. It's not a good surprise anymore."

"Come on, just tell me." I said.

"No. We're gonna build a futon and go to bed so we're ready for tomorrow." Dean said firmly. "It's supposed to be a surprise so you aren't ready for it when it happens."

"That's comforting." I mumbled.

We did just as Dean said when we got home. Sam sat on a library chair reading the instructions out loud and Dean and I assembled the futon between two bookshelves. It didn't take long. The bright red seemed to both clash and mesh with the décor in the room. Bobby walked in on us pulling the bright cushions out of their vacuum sealed wrapping and rolled his eyes so hard that I was surprised he didn't fall over. He didn't say a word before leaving the room. Cas wandered in a few minutes later.

"So this is what you've been doing all day." Cas said. "I wondered why I couldn't hear fighting anymore."

"Pretty sweet, huh? On sale. Sixty bucks." Dean said, gesturing to his masterpiece. "Try it out."

"It looks comfortable. And very bright." Cas said with a small grin as he sat on the eight inches of padding.

"That's why it was on sale." Sam said with a hint of irony in his voice.

"I see."

"So you really aren't going to tell me what I'm doing tomorrow?" I said as we picked up the packaging from around the floor where most if it lay scattered.

"Nope." Dean said.

"This is actually very comfortable." Cas said quietly.

"Don't stress about it, Ali. I'm sure you'll do fine." Sam said. "It's not the hardest test by any means."

"Great. So I'm the only one who doesn't know what it is." I grumbled, violently stuffing my trash into the bag before storming off to my room. Sleep came too easy that night. I should have known something was up.

* * *

I sat up straight in bed at the violent pounding on my door. Adrenaline rushed to my heart and before I reached my door, it was pounding.

"What?" I snapped as I swung the door open.

"We have a vengeful spirit on our hands." Dean said urgently. "Put on some pants and get out here asap."

I closed the door and soon my thoughts were racing. A vengeful spirit? In the bunker or was it a case? What was with the sudden urgency? Did it already hurt someone? If it was in the bunker, and Dean was fine, that meant Bobby, Cas… Sam. Was Sam hurt? He'd be the easy target. My chest clenched tight as I swapped out my sleeping shorts for a pair of sturdy jeans, and my shirt for a warm jacket and thick sweater. If it hurt Sam, I'd kill it. End of story.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to leave a review! I love hearing your comments and questions! Also, if you think I should include a lead-in paragraph (the last few lines of the previous chapter) in each new chapter, let me know. Thanks!**


	4. Raindrops

**A/N: Vivi here! Welcome back to Family Practice. I've been hard at work with some of the later chapters of this story, and also some shorts that I'm pretty excited about. I have some news: I'm switching my posting day to Saturdays. I feel like people just have more time on Saturdays. I know I do. Now down to business. This chapter has some language in it, but no violence. Additionally, I've decided to put the last paragraph or two of the previous chapter in the beginning of the next for some much needed context. As always, don't forget to review once you've read it. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"We have a vengeful spirit on our hands." Dean said urgently. "Put on some pants and get out here asap."_

 _I closed the door and soon my thoughts were racing. A vengeful spirit? In the bunker or was it a case? What was with the sudden urgency? Did it already hurt someone? If it was in the bunker, and Dean was fine, that meant Bobby, Cas… Sam. Was Sam hurt? He'd be the easy target. My chest clenched tight as I swapped out my sleeping shorts for a pair of sturdy jeans, and my shirt for a warm jacket and thick sweater. If it hurt Sam, I'd kill it. End of story._

* * *

I rushed out into the hall as I pulled my boots on. Sam and Dean were waiting there. Dean had a stopwatch and a shovel in his hands. A duffel was hung over his shoulder. Sam was fine, leaning against the wall on his crutches with a big plastic bag tied around his cast. He was holding a little square tape measure.

"What the hell is this?" I snapped. Confusion and anger swept through my sleep deprived brain as I tried to make sense of the current situation.

"Your first test. Scenario goes that me and Sam are down for the count and you gotta do the dirty work in under two hours or we all die at the hands of that vengeful spirit. If you don't burn those bones in time, training is over. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200." Dean said. "Test starts as soon as we get to the site. Follow me."

We went outside. It was dark and cold. I couldn't even see the moon. Dean steered us around the power plant that sat over the bunker and into a small grove of trees. We stopped in a little clearing. "Here's our graveyard." Dean spread his arms and smiled at me before thrusting the shovel into my arms. "Start diggin'."

"By myself?" I asked as I took the only shovel.

"Yeah, we got busted up by the spirit, remember?" Sam said. He sounded as tired as I felt. I wished Dean had left him out of this. He needed sleep to heal.

"Really?" I groaned.

"You can quit anytime." Dean smirked. "Always wanted a house nerd."

I glared at him and shoved the spade into the soft soil. "Start your frickin' timer."

* * *

I lost track of time. Each shovel full of dirt blurred into the next. Even pacing myself, it was hard to keep my arms and back from seizing up. Breaths came in heaving pants. I wasn't even two feet down yet.

"Just dig a hole big enough for you to work." Sam said after a while. He had been kind enough to hold my flashlight for me, so I could see what I was doing. "No sense in trying to show the whole casket."

"Okay." I panted, leaning on the end of the shovel for a quick break. "This is harder than I thought."

"We make it look easy." Dean said, conceit in his tone. A few deep coughs echoed through the forest occasionally, but other than those reminders, I barely noticed his presence. He stood on the other side of the hole quietly hand sharpening a few of his blades to pass the time. I tossed a scoop of dirt at him. "Hey, I'm hurt, remember? That spirit could come back anytime, Princess. Pick it up."

"What's my time?" I asked, resuming my labor.

"Got an hour and a half left." That didn't sound so bad. I was making good time.

An hour later, I was only four and a half feet down. That last eighteen inches was densely packed earth; even more so than the eighteen inches after the soft topsoil gave out. Even though I was only digging a hole big enough for me to work in and still get the job done, I was exhausted. And freezing cold. The night air was bitter and a sharp wind had picked up since I hit three feet. I shivered violently when I stopped moving. The interplay between the biting wind and the sweat on my skin from all this exertion was very irritating. I stopped every so often to feel for any tugging at my thigh, but none ever started up, and Cas didn't come barging out, so I wasn't too worried about that.

"Half hour left, Li. You ready to go warm up yet?" Dean asked from where he found a seat on an old log a few yards away. He'd finished sharpening all his knives and now had nothing better to do than torment me. Sam still held the flashlight.

"Shut it, Dean." I growled loudly, glaring at him from the hole. Only my shoulders and head showed now. "Why don't you take the flashlight for a while and let Sam sit?"

"How 'bout it, Sam?" Dean asked.

"I'm good." Sam said. "Thanks anyway."

"Why are you out here, Sam?" I asked quietly as I plugged away. I didn't want Dean to hear me. "You should be sleeping and healing."

He snorted. "I'd rather be out here overseeing your test."

"Why's that?" I asked. At that moment, I felt a drop of liquid hit the top of my head. Confused, I looked up. The sky was still dark, but not as dark as before. Clouds, lots of them, had rolled in while I was focused on the earth below.

"That's why." Sam said, pointing up. "I want to make sure you're safe. Dean's tests aren't always up to code when it comes to black and white safety. Especially this one. He picked a bad night to do this and I want to make sure you don't get hurt."

I looked up at Sam, slightly surprised. "You came out in the cold and volunteered to stand for two hours and hold the flashlight to protect me?"

"Well, yeah. I had to do this test too, once. Nobody held the light for me. Both Dad and Dean were fighting the spirit that I was trying to burn." Sam said with a lighthearted shrug. "I know how difficult it can be."

I had to look away. There was a constant mist of droplets falling now and looking up made more than I thought possible fall into my eyes. At least the water loosened up the soil a little. I was five and a half feet down in fifteen minutes. I could barely see over the edge of the hole now.

"What's my time?" I shouted to Dean as I tried to suppress a violent shiver. My clothes were soaked and now covered in thick, icy mud.

"Ya got fifteen minutes." He said, sauntering up to join us. "Look, Li, I know this is hard and you're almost done. I know you want to pass. But this rain could make the sides of that hole cave in pretty fast. Why don't we do this another time?"

"Gimme fifteen more minutes." I said, throwing a shovel-full of dirt at him. "I can do this."

"Yeah, you're almost there, and maybe you can pass, but this is getting dangerous." Dean said. "I didn't think the rain would start for another half hour." He sighed as I threw another scoop up onto my pile. "Li, look. If this were a real job, we'd keep going with bracing for the walls and a rope around your waist. But we got time. No one's life is on the line if you don't make it six feet down."

"I have four more inches, dude. Let me work." I said, not trying to mask the irritation in my voice.

"Fine. But if anything moves, if any dirt falls in from a wall, if any water starts streaming into that hole, you come out. End of story." Dean said. He stopped bothering me, but I didn't hear him walk away.

Ten minutes later, I thought I'd reached six feet. Sam tossed the measuring tape down to me for what seemed like the tenth time, and sure enough, I was at six feet and one inch. And there was enough room in the base of the hole to open a casket and do the job. Well, there would be if the last two inches weren't a soupy mud puddle. I smiled up at them. The hole was a few inches deeper than I was tall; it made me feel small and a little nervous.

"How are you gonna get out?" Dean asked, circling the hole casually, arms crossed. His tone was tense but thick with mocking humor. "Didn't leave yourself an exit, did you?"

"I can get out, no problem." I said, tossing the shovel up onto the ground. "That's why I kept this corner a right angle." Carefully, I planted my hands on either side of the angle I'd left and jumped as high as I could. My feet dug into the sides of the walls to try and boost my body out of the grave I'd dug. Weak as they were, my arms got all but my legs above ground level.

Then the soil shifted under my hands and the corner I'd left so pristine collapsed under my hands. A shower of cold, dense, heavy dirt fell in on me as I landed on my rear in the puddle at the bottom of the grave. My head snapped back against a wall and came to a hard stop. Pain reverberated through my neck and spine and down my legs and I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my jaw to avoid crying out. After a second, I was able to open my eyes again. My tattoo didn't pull at all. That was a small relief.

"Ali? You okay?" Sam asked, kneeling at the side of the hole, well away from the frail sides. I worried that he would be in pain if he stayed in that position much longer. It couldn't feel good on his healing hip.

"Yeah." I gasped quickly. There was probably a good foot of soil in my lap and the rest of the walls looked about ready to cave. A slow, forceful feeling of dread bore down on me as I looked up, out of the grave at the cloudy sky. The gray was all I could see.

"Li, you need to get out of there now." Dean said, moving to kneel beside Sam and peering over the edge.

I rubbed the back of my head and tried to shift so that I wasn't buried under so much soil before trying to stand.

"I said now, Li. That's an order." Dean growled in a hard voice. I stood as quickly as I could and gently prodded the walls around me. I found the one that seemed the sturdiest and kicked it hard, making a foothold for myself. I did that, climbing, until the dense soil ran out. My head and shoulders showed out the top of the hole. I had to concentrate so I didn't shove my foot into the layer of soil that would collapse as soon as I touched it while searching for another footing. Even with all my concentration on the wall, I still managed to kick the soft spot. A large portion of the wall beneath me fell with a soft roar into the puddle below. I felt my only foothold start to give and my heart felt like it stopped.

Before I knew what was happening, I was lifted out by a pair of strong arms and wrapped in a warm hug. It only lasted a few seconds, but I could practically feel the anxiety running off the older Winchester. "You passed." He whispered roughly. "Don't dig in the rain, okay? Never again."

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm f-fine." I said roughly, trying to hide the terror that was still making a lump in my throat.

"Let's get warmed up." Sam said, pulling himself to his feet. He had wisely backed about a yard away from the hole before attempting to stand.

"Yeah… yeah. We'll fill it in tomorrow." Dean said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we walked back to the bunker. He held me close enough to feel his body heat, which felt amazing because I could no longer stop shivering. The icy weather numbed my body enough that I couldn't feel too much pain, or anything really, as we returned home. Once we made it inside, the bunker's cool night temperature felt like a greenhouse. I sighed and shrugged out of my soaked jacket in the war room. It fell in a heap to the floor, a puddle forming around it.

"Go clean up, Ali. I'll make breakfast." Sam said as he made his way out of the war room.

"Thanks, S-Sam. What are you m-making?" I asked, trying to stop the shivering.

"Whatever you want." He was already out of sight, as was Dean, who'd gone towards his room.

"T-toast." I said. I hoped that would quell the uneasy ache that was still in my stomach from yesterday. It had been slowly escalating since it started and was beginning to make me nervous.

I showered quickly and walked back to my room in my towel. The shivering had stopped and the bunker still felt nice and warm. When I arrived in my quarters, I noted that it was five o'clock already. I entered with just enough time to hear my usual alarm go off. I put on my comfiest clothes, including my thickest sweatpants, and a tank top. Tiny electric shocks explored the length of my spine and tailbone when I walked now that I wasn't numb anymore, but I didn't want anyone to know I'd gotten hurt yet again.

As I arrived at the doorway to the kitchen, I heard voices bickering in hushed tones. So naturally, I stopped short and leaned in to eavesdrop.

"Dude, you have to be more careful with her." The first voice sounded like Sam.

"You don't think I know that? The rain wasn't supposed to start for another half hour. I thought we'd be in the clear." Dean sounded just as angry as Sam.

"She almost got buried alive, Dean. It doesn't matter what you think. You should have pulled her as soon as the rain started." Sam snapped.

"She didn't want to come." Dean said, trying to defend himself. "I'm not gonna make her do anything she doesn't want to do."

"I can't do a whole lot with this leg, man. If those walls had caved in, I wouldn't have been able to help you dig her out. She would have died, for real this time. I know she didn't want to leave, but-"

"I didn't die." I said, coming around the corner and stopping the brothers in their tracks. "I'm fine, and I passed the test." I crossed my arms over my chest and stood close to them, trying to ignore the fire and sparks that were tormenting my spine.

"But we put you in unnecessary danger." Sam said. "That's not fair."

"Who said it was fair? I chose that, Sam. It was my decision to keep working. And now I've passed Dean's test and we can get on with our lives." I said.

Sam sighed heavily and frowned. He glanced at my bare arms. "Did you get hurt?"

I looked down to see the light bruises that had been there since training started, all in varying shades of yellow by now. "No, these are from training." I said simply. "They don't even hurt anymore."

"I didn't know I was doing that much damage." Dean said. "I even dialed it back from when I used to train with Sam. You always wear long sleeves…" He looked up and down my arms. "Are your legs bruised?"

"Yeah. It's not a big deal." I said, shrugging. "They'll heal."

"Li, why didn't you tell me I was hurting you?" Dean asked, now visibly upset.

"We were training. It's just part of the deal." I said firmly. "Don't treat me like I'm a little girl."

"Okay, Li. Can we be real for a second? No macho walls, no guarded answers, no lies. Did you get hurt when you fell in the grave?" Dean asked squaring his shoulders up to mine.

"If this team is gonna work, you have to be honest with us, Ali. There's no other way." Sam said from his position at the stove. He was making omelets from the look of it.

I glanced from Dean to Sam and back a few times. With each pass, a tiny bit of my resolve began to wear away. Would they still respect me if I told them I got hurt? What if Dean took back my passing grade? Not only did my resolve to put up a strong front fade, but also my resolve to keep the reason behind my newest tattoo a secret. On one hand, they deserved to know that I wouldn't be able to help them for very long. On the other hand, they wouldn't let me help at all if I told them. What if something happened that I could have prevented and I lost them? How could I live with that? But what if something happened that I could have prevented and I lost the baby? Could I live with that?

"Fine." I said, tears beginning to form in my eyes and showing through in my voice. I couldn't make eye contact with either brother. "I fell on my tailbone and my back hit pretty hard. The back of my head has a bump on it and my neck is sore. It's kinda hard to walk, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Any numbness? Sudden muscle weakness?" Sam asked.

After a quick mental check, I shook my head. "No. I can feel everything I'm supposed to and everything responds like it always does."

"Are you bleeding anywhere?" Dean asked.

"No, nothing broke skin."

"Dizziness, vertigo, black spots?" Sam asked.

"No. Guys, really. That's all. Oh, and my stomach is still upset. There. Now that's all." I said quickly. "Really, it's nothing to worry about."

Dean raised his hand high above his head and looked me dead in the eye. "Touch my hand."

Confusion washed over me. "What? Why do you want me to touch your hand?"

"Jump. Come on." Dean insisted.

I did as he said and nearly passed out when I landed. My back and tailbone screamed, my muscles almost gave out, and I felt ten times heavier than I actually was. If it wasn't for the counter and Sam, I would've collapsed in a heap on the ground.

"I think you need to rest." Sam said, propping me up against the counter as my limbs started to feel their normal weight again.

"Morning." A voice sounded from across the room. "Sam, why are your clothes covered in mud and soaking wet?"

"Ali passed her first training test." Sam said. "We just got back."

Cas joined us near the stove where I was nearly doubled over, trying to ride out the shocks and burning pain that hadn't stopped since I landed. He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me upright. I clenched my jaw and let him move me. The action hurt less if he did it; if I were to straighten up on my own, I was sure my back would seize up. It was obvious by the look on his face that I wasn't hiding my pain well enough. "What was the first test?"

"Digging a grave." Dean said flatly.

"And you succeeded." Cas said, his eyes squinted in confusion. "Then why are you hurt?"

"Started raining. Rain made the walls weak and one collapsed in on her. She fell back into the hole while trying to get out." Sam said. "We didn't know she got hurt until just now."

"It's not that bad, guys. Leave it be." I said. "I'll be fine in a couple hours."

"Why don't you go lay down on the new couch, huh? We'll bring you breakfast-in-futon." Dean said. "Just don't push it today."

"I'm only gonna do what you said because my back is spasming right now." I said, pushing my way out of the concern cloud and limping towards the library. Cas followed behind me closely.

Once we were out of the kitchen, I felt a massive wave of nausea roll over me. It was like I was drowning in it. My knees gave out and I fell, catching myself with outstretched hands. The pain that erupted from my spine seemed to build on the nausea and it all became overwhelming very quickly.

"Alliso-" Cas started to talk to me, but I was vomiting before he even finished my name. Nothing but bile and water came up. Luckily the burger from the bar last night was already well digested. "Are you okay?"

"Cas, I've been nauseous for two days now." I said quietly, not wanting the guys to hear. "Am I sick?"

Cas knelt beside me and rested a reassuring hand on my back. His face and tone were so gentle that I wanted to cry. "It's called morning sickness, Allison."

I swore under my breath. "Already?"

"Unfortunately, yes. And there's nothing I can do to stop it permanently." Cas said. "Although I should be strong enough in the next few days to fix Sam's leg and your back."

"Did I break something?" I asked. Cas helped me stand and guided me, carried me really, to the couch. I sank into the eight inches of padding as I lay on my stomach; it felt like a cloud. Like a bright red, chemically scented cloud.

"No, you just strained a few muscles. They'd heal on their own in about a week." Cas said. "Ice and pain medication will help for now. I'll return shortly." I let my eyes drift shut and basked in the relatively pain free position I'd found.

I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes again, I was covered with a big warm blanket. Something cold lined my spine; I reached back and found several bags of frozen vegetables placed carefully along my sore spots, under the blanket. A glass of water and another glass with a few Tylenol in it sat on the floor next to where I lay. I craned my neck to see the floor where I'd fallen. It was clean.

It felt weird to be totally taken care of. A long, happy sigh escaped me, and I fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! I think the next chapter will be coming on Saturday this week, so see you then**!


	5. Team Lead

A/N: Vivi here! As promised, it's Saturday and the next chapter of Family Practice is out! Also, if you haven't noticed, I published a story called Saving Allison, which is all about how she came to be at the bunker. It's the first of the shorter fics that I'm planning to publish to round out some scenes that didn't make it into Internal Medicine but will also be good as their own little fics. Just FYI, this chapter has some mild violence and language in it. I hope you're ready for the next chapter of Family Practice, titled Team Lead.

* * *

 _Previously on FP:_

 _I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes again, I was covered with a big warm blanket. Something cold lined my spine; I reached back and found several bags of frozen vegetables placed carefully along my sore spots, under the blanket. A glass of water and another glass with a few Tylenol in it sat on the floor next to where I lay. I craned my neck to see the floor where I'd fallen. It was clean._

 _It felt weird to be totally taken care of. A long, happy sigh escaped me, and I fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep._

* * *

"She still asleep?" A rough voice permeated through my mind. I wasn't sure if I was still sleeping or not. The voice was quiet, hushed; maybe it was all in my head.

"Yeah. Try not to wake her up." A higher, softer voice spoke up. They sounded familiar but I couldn't place any identity in their tones. I was exhausted; I couldn't even open my eyes.

"How long's it been now?"

"Couple hours. Maybe six? Does it matter? I mean, she's drained and hurt. If she can sleep it off, I say let her sleep."

"Can't argue with that logic." The grating sound of a chair on wood eked softly into my brain.

"Quiet." The higher voice hissed. "Dude, if she wakes up she'll be in pain again."

"Didn't she take the Tylenol?"

"No, she hasn't woken up."

"Well, is the ice melted?"

"No, Cas keeps bringing more for her. I don't know how he does it, but he can change it out without waking her up. He doesn't even do the forehead thing."

"That's Cas for ya. Sneaky little dude." The deeper voice paused. "Hey, do you think she's sick?"

"Uh, I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. What do you mean? Do you think she caught what you have?"

"No, it's just… she's been acting funny since that book knocked her a couple weeks ago. I don't know if she has a concussion or if it's a virus or something, but she just… She's not the same as she was, okay?" The deeper voice said. "And I'm pretty sure she has a stomach bug on top of it. She threw up earlier, remember?"

"Do you think we should take her to a doctor? She hasn't seen one since she's been here with us."

"Might be a good idea… Dammit." The deeper voice growled angrily.

"What, Dean?"

"The bruises. Any good doctor will give her crap about the bruises. Then the police will get involved and they'll ID her. She's a goner if they find out who she is. The demon made sure of that."

"Why don't we just ask Cas to see if she's sick? He can tell, can't he? Even when he's weak like he is?"

"That's not a half bad idea." There was a lengthy pause in the conversation. "Hey, you two haven't been… y'know." The deeper voice said.

"Been what, Dean?"

"Have you done anything with that 'really pretty sure' of yours yet?"

The lighter voice chuckled, but still sounded uncomfortable. "Dean, we talked about this. I can't do much with this brace and the massive cast on my foot. And the doctor said I shouldn't. Why do you ask, anyway? I thought you were just gonna let us take our time."

"I am, don't get me wrong. It's just… she has some weird symptoms, y'know? Kinda like-"

"Seriously, dude? You think I-"

"I don't know, Sam. I don't know what you do half the time. I don't just sit around and stalk you two. I just wanted to make sure nothing funny was going on, that's all."

"There's nothing funny going on."

"So we'll ask Cas about it then. See what he says." The deeper voice said quietly.

"Yeah."

The voices went quiet and I drifted back into the deep silence I'd left momentarily.

* * *

A jarring motion brought me back to consciousness in a whirlwind of electric shocks, burning nerves, and stretched, strained muscle. It seemed like every fiber of muscle I had in my body clenched at the pain. I cried out before my eyes even opened.

"Don't do that." Some exclaimed from across the room. Another jarring movement compressed my back and I felt tears jump to my eyes as the fiery pain intensified. I struggled to breathe normally.

"Why not?" A gruff voice asked. He sounded offended.

"Bobby, her back is screwed up." A third voice chimed in.

Slowly, I forced my eyes open and focused them. The lights in the library were dim, but it seemed like everyone was in the room. Sam was coming towards me from where I guessed he, Cas, and Dean had been sitting at a table reading quietly. Dean was watching me with concern painting his face, Cas was absorbed in a book, and Bobby was standing near me looking angry, his arms crossed over his chest.

"She was fine yesterday." Bobby said. "What happened?"

"Grave test." Dean said shortly. "She passed but it rained and she fell in."

"You let her dig in the rain?" Bobby exclaimed with an edge to his voice.

"She wouldn't stop." Dean said, looking away like he was embarrassed.

"It was my choice." I said loudly, my throat scratchy and raw.

"Hey, Ali. How are you feeling?" Sam asked as he pulled up a chair and sat facing me as I lay on the futon in a forming puddle of my own tears.

"Just peachy."

He frowned. "What hurts?"

"Everything."

"Is it bad? Do you want to go to the hospital?" He asked.

"No, I'll live. Cas said it's just some strained muscles. I'm fine." I said as I attempted to force the tears to stop.

"You musta fell pretty hard to be that messed up." Bobby said, his tone a little softer than before. "Sorry for movin' ya, Allison."

"'s not a big deal." I said. The fire still hadn't dissipated but it was a little better than before.

"So Cas already checked up on you?" Sam asked.

"Yes." Cas said from across the room. I was surprised he heard us until I remembered what he was.

"So what's the diagnosis, doc?" Dean asked.

"Like she said: strained muscles." Cas said, not looking up from his book.

"Why did she throw up then?" Dean asked.

"She fell and the pain was too much for her body to bear in the moment."

"Why was she sick at the bar yesterday?" Sam asked. "Do you know?"

"She has a sensitive stomach. Her nausea will come and go." Cas said. I silently thanked him for keeping my secret. "It's not something she can control."

"So she's not sick?" Dean asked. "I didn't give her my cold?"

"No, Dean. She's not sick." Cas said. From the tone of his voice, his patience was wearing thin.

"Hey, how are you holdin' up, Cas?" Dean asked. "You've been back, what, like three or four weeks now? Feeling any better?"

"Yes, I'm much stronger than I was. I may be just a few days away from being able to fix all your medical problems." Cas said. "Of which, in the current state of our household, there are many."

"Sweet. We're due for a win." Dean said, a smile in his voice.

"Ali, take some Tylenol and I'll get you something to eat, okay?" Sam said quietly.

"Okay." I said, steeling myself before I lifted my body up onto my elbows to take the pills. It didn't hurt as much to move my upper back; it was my lower back that was laying siege to my nervous system.

"Guess I'll try out the couch later." Bobby said, taking a seat next to Dean. "What're we doin' today? I take it there'll be no physical stuff for our friend here."

"No, not today. I'm hoping she can stay awake and focus for an hour at least. Then we can do the next test and get that over with." Dean said.

"That the S 'n L test?" Bobby asked.

"Yup."

"Same one your daddy used on Sam before he could go with you two?"

"The very same."

"What's the subject of this one?"

"There are three for hers." Dean said. "You taught her all about the usual suspects, right?"

"'Course. Taught her all the common ones. I leave the rare ones until the time comes since sometimes the time never comes."

"Am I seriously taking another test today?" I asked loudly, feeling left out of the conversation.

"Yeah, if you can." Dean replied. "You only have four total and you've already passed one. I was hoping to get all of 'em done this week."

"How am I supposed to take another test if I can hardly move?" I asked. Then panic began to leak into my brain. What if this was a test to see if I could work through pain? What if I'd failed a test by getting hurt and complaining about another test? That would be it. Fail one and I'd be a bunker nerd until I could wrestle some freedom from the Winchesters. All this pain would be for nothing.

"All you have to do is talk for this next one. Maybe draw some stuff. It won't take long." Dean said. "Can you sit up?"

I groaned internally and closed my eyes, giving myself a quick pep talk before I rolled onto my side and dropped my legs off the side of the futon. Slowly, I pushed myself into a sitting position. "Yes."

"You gonna be okay sitting up?" Sam asked as he returned from the kitchen. He was balancing a plastic bowl, lid securely in place, on the handle of one of his crutches. He handed the bowl and a spoon to me; the liquid inside was red and very warm.

"Yeah, for a while. It won't hurt as much when the meds kick in. What is this?" I asked, opening the container and catching a whiff of something sweet and savory.

"Tomato rice soup." Dean said. "Made some earlier."

"Is this the recipe from the bulletin board?" I asked, remembering the numerous mornings I'd read the recipe that was handwritten and pinned to the corner of the corkboard in the kitchen. I didn't recognize the handwriting for a long time. It wasn't Sam's or Dean's. Certainly too neat to be Cas'. It wasn't until I stumbled upon John's journal, left on the library table one day, that I figured out who'd written the card. I figured their father wrote the card after their mother passed away, before he forgot how she used to make it. Dean's notes were in the margins of the card, correcting mistakes his father made in the original recipe.

"Yeah. It was our mother's." Sam said. "Dean used to make it every time Dad or me got sick."

I took a sip of the soup from the bowl and savored the feeling of warmth and comfort as it seemed to touch my very soul. "This is amazing."

"Don't give him a big head." Bobby said.

"I stand by my claims." I said, taking another big sip.

"Well, while you're doing that, I'll explain the next test." Dean said, coming to the futon.

"Sam, you can sit with me. Just don't sit down really hard." I said, patting the futon beside me when I noticed him eyeing the wooden chair with a frown. Sam joined me as gently as he could, for which I was grateful. Dean sat in the chair Sam left behind.

"Alright, listen up, 'cuz this is the only time I'm gonna explain the rules. This is the strategy and lore test. We give you a scenario and some events and you have to solve the case and kill the monster." Dean said.

"Like roleplaying?" I asked, pausing for just a moment between gulps.

"Yeah, something like that." Sam said with a smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Anyway, if your strategy doesn't work out, you fail. If you get the lore wrong, you fail. If you hesitate for more than ten seconds, you fail. If you can't draw something correctly the first time-"

"I fail. I get it, Dean. Anything else?"

"Actually there's one more rule, Quick Draw McGraw. If you can't explain yourself, you fail. I've got three scenarios for you to go through. If you make it through those you pass this test." He said. "We'll start after lunch."

True to his word, after we'd all had some soup, he called the test into session.

"You good to sit like that for the test?" Dean asked. I sat straight up in the futon, unable to rest my back lest the fiery electric pain worsen.

"Yeah. Let's get on with it." I said. "What's the first scenario?"

Dean grabbed a small leather bound journal from the table behind him. I recognized it as his; Sam had a similar one, like their father's but a little bigger. He opened it and flipped to a page near the middle. "Okay… You catch wind of a town, mid-size, that has a high number of missing persons reports. It also has a high number of murders for a town that size. What do you do?"

"Look online to see some of the missing persons reports and obituaries or reports on the murders." I said quickly.

"Good. The missing people are mostly from the edges of the town, near a forest. The murders are mostly people who lived out of the area and were just traveling through. Next move?"

Wendigo. I thought. This was almost exactly what happened to Dean not three months. He was abducted by a wendigo from a house at the edge of a forest. Sam and I found him eventually, trapped in a mine with two wendigoes. I was surprised that he'd make it so easy on my first scenario.

But wait. Wendigoes didn't leave bodies. They ate the people they took. "I'd read the coroner's reports on the murder victims, if they were available online." What forest monsters did I know? Not a lot. Hidebehind, werewolf…

"What if they're not available?" Dean asked. "What if the old coroner only keeps paper records?"

"Then I'd head to the town and read them in person." I said.

"The coroner questions who you are. He doesn't let just anybody go through his records."

I sighed, frustrated that I needed to include this level of detail. "I'd act like a fed, or maybe pose as a researcher from the health department. Fake IDs and everything."

"Good. He lets you see the documents. Some victims had broken bones, evidence of trauma before death, and significant blood loss through wounds varying in location from their necks to their arms. Hypoxia was noted in most of the victims. The majority of the vics are young females, although there are some young males. All under thirty." Dean said. "What now?"

"I want to see autopsy photos. Maybe a body if there was a recent murder matching the others." I said. This was actually a little entertaining.

"There is one recent vic. The coroner introduces you to the body of a Mr. Lee Masterson, 24, murdered three days ago. Significant blood loss through several puncture wounds on his arms, a fractured wrist, and a large bruise on the back of his head. Lee was a local, living on the west side of town, nearest the forest. His sister has been declared missing, vanishing at about the same time as Lee." Dean said, glancing at me to make sure I was still paying attention. "There are plenty of autopsy photos, all showing similar puncture wounds, small and jagged, on the victim's upper bodies. Next move?"

"You said small? Like tooth sized?" I asked.

"You could say that."

"And they had blood loss and broken bones?"

"That's what I said."

"I'm thinking vampire now." I blurted out. Hopefully he wouldn't immediately fail me if I was wrong. "I'd comb through the missing persons and see if they had any connections. Maybe talk to the families and friends."

"You poke around and turns out they all go to the same street for kicks on Friday nights. It's on the west side of town."

"I go scope out the area that night." I said. "I wear clothes to blend in and ask the locals where the best place for drinks is like I'm new to the area, or just passing through."

"You catch sight of a group of people who don't mingle with the crowd but are looking at everyone as they walk into the bar. They seem to like looking at you." Dean said. I felt Sam shift positions beside me. I hoped he wasn't uncomfortable; if this futon with eight inches of padding was hurting his leg, I didn't know how he could ever get comfortable.

"I note what they look like and ask people if those patrons come in often, and if they know who they are."

"No one seems to know who they are, but they come in every Friday like clockwork to sit in a corner and drink. The bartender says they started coming in about four years ago. They don't cause trouble and they drink like fish but never seem to get blackout drunk."

"When did the murders and missing persons spike?"

"Just under four years ago."

"I call some other hunters and get backup." I said, watching Dean closely to see if he'd fail me for needing help. Realistically, there would be no way that I could kill an entire nest of vampires on my own.

Dean looks at me for a long moment. "A couple hunters are willing to help and happen to be in the area. You're the team lead. What do you do?"

"Ask the locals or the police department if there are any abandoned properties in the woods on the west side of town."

"There are several abandoned buildings, barns and houses, on the edge of the woods, and one large Mountain Scout cabin a mile inside the trees."

"I get my crew and I loaded up before we head out the next day."

"What do you load up?" Dean asks.

"Uh, We'll need dead man's blood, if I can get it. Machetes or swords and knives to hide in our boots. Really, anything that can behead or wound the things."

"Any guns?"

"Maybe one per person, but they won't work on the vampires. I'd be concerned about wildlife, like bears."

"Okay. Where are you going?"

"Mountain Scout cabin." I said. "We go in the morning, when the sun is bright and they should be sleeping."

"Ding ding ding, you found them. What now?"

"Try to figure out how many there are before getting into the fray."

"You can't see them all, but there are five at least. The same ones you saw at the bar."

"I take my team inside and we go off in pairs to behead the biggest ones first with our dead man's blood dipped blades."

"Turns out there were two more in a back room; they capture one of your team members and threaten to kill him if you don't surrender. What do you do?"

I looked at Dean in surprise. Had he really put me in an ethical dilemma on the first scenario? How could this even be graded?

"I need an answer, Li. Time's a tickin'."

"I'd ask to trade places." I said.

"What?" Dean asked; it was his turn to be surprised.

"Yeah. I still have a knife dipped in dead man's blood in my boot, remember? If I can get close enough, I can wound them both and leave time for my team members to take them out. And it was my fault he got captured. He shouldn't have to die because of me." I said simply.

Dean stared at me for a minute. "You'd really trade places, knowing that they might kill you before you've even unsheathed the knife?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence. "Okay. I guess your team catches on and your plan works. You search the area but find no more vampires. You find Lee's sister locked in a storage room. What now?"

"See if she's hurt."

"She's fine."

"See if she's turned."

"She's fine. She's still human."

"Take her to the police." I said.

"She has a lot of questions about her kidnappers and who you are."

"I make them out to be a bunch of sick criminals. I tell her that my friends and I were just hiking by and found them like that."

"You have blood on your clothes. It freaks her out."

"I tell her I tried to see if one of them was alive before their head rolled away." I said, my stomach churning at the thought.

"She makes it back to her family. The murders stop. Congratulations. You just passed the first scenario." Dean said, rubbing his neck. "Do you need to lie down?"

"No, my back can handle at least one more case, I think. As long as it's as short as the last one." I said, gently rubbing the sore spots on my lower back. My tailbone was starting to throb, but I was pretty sure I had a while to go before I needed to switch positions again.

"We're gonna talk later about circumstances when it's okay to negotiate with a creature and when it's not, okay, Li? You know what? For now, just don't even try. Just let the team lead take that responsibility." Dean said.

"What if I'm the team lead? I was in the last scenario."

"I'm talking about real life here." Dean said firmly.

"Dean's usually the lead for our trickier situations." Sam said, glancing from Dean to me. "Like vampire nests. Normally we don't designate a lead."

"But," Dean interjected. "With a newbie on the team, there needs to be a division between leadership and follower-ship."

"I'm guessing I'm the follower-ship?" I asked, slightly offended.

"Yes. Me and Sam are the leadership. You listen to us and only us on cases, okay? We'll keep you safe."

"What if I don't want to be kept safe at the expense of the team?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a frustrated look. "Look Ali. You're a member of the team, too. Not keeping you safe would be an expense to the team. We watch out for each other."

"But I need extra watching, is that what you're saying?" I asked angrily. "That I'm the weakest link?"

"You are, Li." Dean looked me straight in the eyes. "That's why you have to pass tests. That's why you can't just jump on the bandwagon and follow us everywhere. How do you think we'd feel if we let you come and you got killed?"

"Dean-" Sam started.

"No, Sam. She needs to understand this." Dean interrupted. "How would you feel if we did the same thing? If you were the expert and one of us didn't know enough to live through a situation on our own? What if one of us died and it was on your hands?"

I glared at Dean, feeling tears start to betray my otherwise tough façade. "I get it, okay? I'd feel like I killed you myself."

"So do you understand why you're the follower?"

"Yes." I took a deep breath and pushed the stupid tears back. "I just don't want to be sidelined all the time."

"You'll be with us most of the time, Ali. But if something is too dangerous, we might have to leave you behind." Sam said in a comforting tone. As much as I hated what he was saying, there was something about his tone that forced the tension in my shoulders to relax. "Please understand that it's for the best."

"We'll see." I grumbled.

* * *

 **A/N: Please leave a review! Let me know what you think.**


	6. Mrs Monson's Fern

**A/N: Vivi here! It's Spring Break! I'm going on vacation today, so I won't be able to post tomorrow. My compromise? You get a chapter a day early! Keep an eye out for a mid-week bonus chapter too; I have some extra writing time this week. In the mean time, please enjoy Mrs. Monson's Fern.**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"You'll be with us most of the time, Ali. But if something is too dangerous, we might have to leave you behind." Sam said in a comforting tone. As much as I hated what he was saying, there was something about his tone that forced the tension in my shoulders to relax. "Please understand that it's for the best."_

 _"We'll see." I grumbled._

* * *

"Okay. Are we starting round two?" Dean asked.

"What's the scenario?" I replied eagerly.

"While having lunch at a diner on the road, you decide to read the local newspaper. On the fourth page is a small insert about a mysterious gas leak that killed a family of five in their home. The article mentions that the unknown gas left no traces, but withered and wrinkled the faces and bodies of the people in the house so they appeared both inside and out, and I quote: 'like mummies'. What're you gonna do?" Dean asked, leaning forward as I winced. A quick bolt of pain had shot up my spine when I leaned back just a fraction of an inch. "You okay?"

"I'm gonna do some research on the family. See who they were, read the police and coroner's reports." I said quickly, trying to save myself some embarrassment.

"So you're fine?" Dean asked, searching my face stubbornly.

"The sooner we finish this, the better." I grumbled, seeing that I had in fact not spared myself any embarrassment. "Get on with it."

Dean frowned at me before looking back to his journal and answering me. "The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Belie, their twin daughters, and their son, the youngest. All the kids were teens at the local high school. Mr. and Mrs. worked as accountants for a local firm. Their histories are squeaky clean, except Junior's belligerent school record."

"And the reports? Coroner's and police?"

"Coroner said whatever gas leaked into their house had an extremely damaging effect on their internal organs and skin. The organs lost all their elasticity and probably failed before the vics died. Their skin was wrinkled, like the article said, but all five of them had multiple dark, bumpy blotches on their skin and the twins had melanoma on their shoulders and heads. Police say they found the family after the kids didn't show up for school three days in a row and the parents missed work. Door was locked, television was on. They found Mom in the kitchen, the twins in the dining room with math homework on the table, and Dad and Junior in the living room. The only thing out of place, besides the bodies, was a shattered flowerpot in the living room. Next move?"

"I want to see the bodies. The murders were recent enough to be in the paper, the coroner could still have them around." I said, my eyes focused far away as I tried to figure out what this might be. A witch? They could do that sort of thing. "I want to see the house after that." Maybe I could find a hex bag.

"You go to the coroner's office and ask to see the bodies. He wants to see some ID." Dean said, putting on a stern face as if he were the coroner.

"I show a forged Department of Health ID badge. I'm a pathologist." I said.

"He wants to hear from your superior, make sure you're legitimate. What now?"

"Give him a business card with Bobby's number on it." I said quietly, hoping Bobby wouldn't hear me.

"Why am I always the go-to guy for verification calls?" Bobby asked from the next table. He was listening to our conversation; my attempt had been in vain. I had a feeling that he'd call foul if I screwed up even more quickly than Dean would.

"You just radiate authority. Who can question a voice like that on the phone?" I asked, smiling.

The old hunter huffed and shrugged after a moment. "I'll take your calls. I take everybody else's so why not?" Bobby's face seemed to soften at my compliment. Maybe he was finally starting to warm up to me.

"Bobby clears the way for you to see the bodies." Dean said, glancing to his journal, then back to me. "They are exactly as previously described."

"So they kinda look like old folks? Even the youngest kid?" I asked. "Wrinkles and liver spots?"

"Yes."

"And the coroner didn't find any foreign objects inside them?" I asked hesitantly. While learning about witches, Bobby had told me numerous horror stories about folks being cursed to have needles appear in their stomachs, or rocks in their intestines, or Valentine's Day cards somehow getting side their brains.

"No." Well then. It could still be a witch. Or maybe something that sucked life, like a… a… shtriga? But those only preyed on children…

"I want to see the house." I said after a few seconds.

"You go to the house. It's covered in police tape and locked." Dean said.

"I pick the lock on the back door." I said.

Dean grinned. "You don't have a lock pick."

"I look under the welcome mat then." I said, slightly irritated. My back was starting to hurt worse and he was screwing around with petty details.

"No, I mean you don't have a lock pick. We need to get you one. And teach you how to use it." Dean said. "Take notes, Sam."

Sam shook his head. "I'll add it to the list." He stood slowly, gently, and left me feeling only slightly worse from the movement. There was a list? A list of things we needed to pick up or that I needed to learn?

"Make it pink." I called after Sam as he left the room.

"There happens to be a key duct taped to the underside of the mat. You enter and find nothing amiss expect the blood that the police left for the realtor to deal with."

"Any sulfur?" I asked. Could be a demon, I guess. They could drain life, couldn't they?

"No."

Well then. Just in case… "Hex bags?"

"No."

That was all my guesses. Maybe this really was just a gas leak. Or a spirit? "Any old spots or EMF?"

"Nothing that you notice on the first sweep of the house. It is daytime, though."

"Right. The creeps come out at night… What about signs of something putting up a fight?"

"No."

"But earlier you said there was a shattered flower pot on the living room floor. Isn't that still there?"

"Nope. Not even dirt in the carpet. You do notice several other plants though. All in very colorful pots, except one, in what looks to be an antique ceramic crock."

"What's the plant in the crock?" I asked.

"A fern. Big one." Dean said, holding his arms outstretched to show the size of the fern that I didn't believe was actually that large.

"I check the whole house again. I looked for blood, weird patterns, strange possessions, anything out of the ordinary."

"No blood or weird patterns in it. Junior had a couple suggestive magazines under his mattress, the twins had some condoms in a piggy bank in their room, and Mr. and Mrs. had more leather than any accountant should locked in a chest in their closet. One of the bedrooms is being remodeled; some old looking wallpaper is half scraped off the wall, revealing horsehair plaster. No strange marks on the walls. Nothing really catches your eye." Dean said.

"That was a lot of unnecessary detail that you just made up there, dude." I said, snorting. A small smile reached my lips. This was definitely more fun that studying.

"I'm not making this up, Li. These are real cases Sammy and me heard about from other hunters or did ourselves. All the details are real. Just not all of them are relevant." He winked at me as Sam returned to his seat.

"Wow. And you remember all that?" I asked.

"Wrote it down. Any little detail might be the key to breaking a case, so if I get all the details, we have a better chance of putting the thing down faster, saving more lives." Dean said. "So what's your next move?"

"Horsehair plaster is pretty old. They stopped using it in the 1950s, I think. I want to know more about the house. When it was built, deaths inside, history, previous owners." I said quickly. If this didn't hurry up, my back was going to give out. The throbbing was already reaching near nauseating heights.

"Built in 1910 by Mr. and Mrs. Monson, who lived there until five years ago, when Mr. Monson passed away in a hospital from lung cancer. No deaths in the house. Mrs. Monson's son lived there until this past year, when he sold it to the most recent owners: our vics." Dean said.

"What happened to Mrs. Monson?" I asked.

"She went to a nursing home, where she crocheted and bullied nurses until her passing six months ago." Dean said.

"Huh." I was hitting a blank. "I… I want to ask around. See what kind of people the Belie's were. Maybe learn more about the Monson's." That seemed like a reasonable out. I probably wouldn't get failed for it.

"Who do you want to talk to?" Dean asked.

"The accounting firm where the Belie's worked. See what kind of people they were in public. I want to talk to the kid's teachers, see if they had behavioral problems. The nursing home where Mrs. Monson died, I want to see what they say about her family. I'd like to talk to her son, if at all possible." I said quickly.

"The accounting firm says the Belie's were very professional. Their work buddies had no concerns about anyone wanting to harm them or their family. They're pretty broken up about the murders too. Uh, the school teachers loved the girls, but Junior tended to talk in class and pick fights with his friends in the halls. The teachers say they think the boys just did it to get on their nerves. Nobody ever got hurt. They also said that his parents told them he behaved poorly at home, frequently throwing things or yelling at his family." Dean said. "Typical teenage boy, right?"

"And the nursing home?"

"The nurses say that Mrs. Monson was a mean old lady, bitter. Her son put her in the nursing home after her husband died. She claims she should have stayed in her house, but her son wouldn't have it. The old woman gave all her nurses a hard time, but when she died, they found out she'd left each of them like a grand in her will. They said she used to yell at them when they overwatered her plant, even though it wasn't real and they weren't actually watering it. She kept asking for them to bring her the plants from her house." Dean said. "And you can't get her son on the phone. There's no good number."

"I look him up online."

"He's mentioned in both his parent's obituaries and the sale of the house to the Belie's, but other than that, there's not much. He's a roadside construction worker, unmarried, no kids." Dean said.

"What was the fake plant in the woman's room?" I asked, a tiny lightbulb going off in my head.

"Plastic fern. The nurses used to dust it every week."

"I'm guessing the big fern in the living room was hers?" I said, looking directly at Dean.

"Yes."

"Okay, let me tell you what I'm thinking. Don't fail me if it's wrong." I waited until Dean nodded before continuing. "Mrs. Monson loses her husband to a tragic disease and her son puts her out of the home she built with her beloved. She feels lost and displaced and she can't take her favorite plant with her. It's too big. Her son lives in the house for a few years, not keeping up with it well enough. Some wall paper starts to curl off the walls in an unused room. The son decides to sell the house and make some money. The Belie's move in, but the son doesn't take the fern. He probably doesn't have room for it either. Mrs. Monson dies in a nursing home, feeling bitter about being taken from her home, and goes back there to be with her precious fern as a spirit. How old was she when she died?"

"Seventy-seven." Dean said.

"So she probably had wrinkles and liver spots. The ghost of Mrs. Monson lives happily in the house with the Belie's until Junior or whatever his real name is throws a fit and sends her beloved fern toppling. She's so angry that she manifests and puts them through the same pain she felt as she died without family or fern in that nursing home."

"Wow. She got it pretty quick." Sam said with an impressed smile.

"Dude, cool it. She's not done yet." Dean said, holding a hand up to stop Sam from continuing. "She could still fail and be our bunker nerd forever."

"I want that fern and the crock." I said quickly.

"You go back to the house and steal the fern from the crime scene. Congratulations, you now have a large fern with a possible spirit attachment. What do you do?"

"I make a fire and add salt, then burn it, crock and all." I said. "Am I done?"

"You burn the crock and the fern in a fire pit you find in the backyard. You leave town. Two weeks later, a realtor is trying to resell the house and clears out all the furniture. She finds a large fern and keeps it in the window. You see it in the listing for the house."

I looked at him with blank eyes. "Was the fern in an old crock?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I go back and check the fern over. I must have missed something the first time."

"You check the fern. It looks normal. No dead or dying leaves on it."

"Is it plastic?" I asked. "Did the realtor buy it and put it there?"

"No, it's very real. You make sure."

"I pull the fern out of the crock and look through the dirt."

"There we go. In the bottom of the crock you find a piece of newspaper all folded up. Inside are two gold rings." Dean said.

"Oh, I get it. A campfire isn't hot enough to melt gold. Mrs. Monson is tied to her and her husband's wedding rings, which didn't burn in the fire. She must've hid them so they wouldn't get stolen, but then she couldn't get to them when her son moved her out. I take the rings and get a butane torch to melt them. Oh, I salt them first. That should do it." I said.

"You melt the rings and don't hear anything about another fern from the realtor when you ask about the house the next day. She's upset that the first one was stolen and not returned. Congratulations, you've passed the second part of this test."

"Great." I said, forcing a smile as I ground my teeth and tried to hide my pain.

"Why don't we take a break?" Sam asked after looking me up and down. "We can finish later. We have all day."

"Agreed." Dean said, standing and stretching. "You need any help lying down, Li?"

"Who says I'm gonna lay down?" I asked, tension obvious in my voice.

"I say." Sam replied. "You're in pain."

"No duh." I groaned. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. Yes it is." Dean said as he put his journal on the table. "I'll get the aspirin."

"Tylenol." I said quickly. Safe for babies who were still growing. "Sensitive stomach, remember?"

"Right." Dean said. He didn't even try to hide the skepticism in his voice as he left the library.

"You sure you can finish today?" Sam asked from his perch beside me. "We can probably convince Dean to let it go until tomorrow."

"I just want this test over with." I said, letting the exhaustion seep into my voice. "The sooner it's done, the sooner I get to sleep."

"You could sleep now, if you want." Dean said. He handed me a glass of water and three pills, which I made sure were actually Tylenol before putting in my mouth.

"Shouldn't we get this last part done?" I asked, taking a big sip of water.

"Get some rest, Li. I'll wake you up in a few hours and we'll finish then, okay?" He asked, though his question sounded more like a statement.

"Is that an order?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "No. More of a friendly suggestion. I'll get the frozen veggies." He went back into the kitchen.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to leave a review!**


	7. In the Days of Innocence

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry if you guys are getting tired of the role play tests. I promise this is the last one! I wanted to send a big thank you to everyone who has read Internal Medicine, my first fic, which has just reached 11000 views! THANK YOU! It's so exciting to see that y'all like my writing as much as I like writing it! Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter in the review box down below. Questions and comments are welcome! Please enjoy the latest chapter of Family Practice titled In the Days of Innocence.**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice..._

 _"Get some rest, Li. I'll wake you up in a few hours and we'll finish then, okay?" He asked, though his question sounded more like a statement._

 _"Is that an order?"_

 _Dean rolled his eyes. "No. More of a friendly suggestion. I'll get the frozen veggies." He went back into the kitchen._

* * *

"Round three. In this corner, featherweight and hunter in training Allison Melissa Ligan. And in this corner," he motioned to the journal in his hand. "Who knows? A win in this round will get Ligan through her second round of tests, but a failure will render her a bunker nerd. Ready to go, Li?" Dean asked.

"How long have you been waiting to say that?" I asked flatly, a ghost of a smile on my lips. He'd woken me up a few minutes ago from a rather lengthy nap. Once I was upright, he wasted no time in beginning the final part of my 'strategy and lore' test. For that, I was glad. My stomach was calm for the time being, but I had a feeling that it would wake up soon.

"I plead the fifth." Dean smirked.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's get this over with." I figured Sam didn't need to be here for the last part. I wasn't sure where he'd gone to after I'd fallen asleep, but Dean and I were the only ones in the library at the moment.

"You, like many hunters, have a network of other hunters who you can call and who occasionally call you for help. One such person calls you up and passes along a case that they don't have time for in the near future. They text you some coordinates, but that's it. They didn't say what it was." Dean glanced up at me from his journal. "What's your first move?"

"I look up the coordinates, of course." I said. "Then I can start researching the area, see if it's a case worth going to."

"The coordinates lead to a large forest, a nation forest actually, where hikers can roam free range." Dean smirked at his attempted joke. "The area is full of bears, abandoned silver and gold mines, and mountains. More specifically, the coordinates point to a ridge a couple hours hike into the dense trees over rough terrain. The only people who go there are back country campers, folks who want to get off the grid for a while."

"I want to see if there have been any incidents there. Maybe call the local PD and see if they can tell me anything. I'll pose as a… let's say I'm a hiker new to the area and I want to know if it's safe for me to go camping there." I said.

"Well, the police tell you that sometimes when those hikers go off the grid, they don't come back. A lot of missing persons are chalked up to runaways in that town, but a few hikers filled out permits to camp there and never came back. Search parties didn't find anything but destroyed campsites and blood. Grizzlies, they tell you. 'Bout a dozen of them up there."

My eyes narrowed in confusion. "So a hunter sent me coordinates to a case of grizzly attacks in the back country?" I asked. Surely any hunter who had enough cases to pass one along would know the difference between a bear and a monster, right?

"Is that what you want to believe?" Dean asked.

"No." I paused, trying to figure out my next move. Maybe the hunter didn't know what was happening here and only saw the deaths in the paper. Maybe he was just guessing that it was not natural. Or maybe he sent the wrong coordinates. "I call the hunter back and ask why he thought something strange was happening."

"You can't reach the hunter." Dean said flatly.

"Fine." Maybe the internet had something for me. Conspiracy theories tended to follow the supernatural… "I search the internet for strange occurrences or missing persons in that town, then." I did not want to fail this test, even if he was trying to trick me and it turned out to just be bears. If I asked enough questions, surely the truth would turn up.

"There are a lot of missing persons in the town. Most of them reported by friends or family. Nothing particularly strange has been happening recently."

"I call several of the missing persons families."

"Of the seven people you call, four say their loved ones returned and they forgot to report it. Two of them say their kids told them ahead of time that they were running away and they just didn't believe them, but that they had since spoken to them on the phone. The last one says his family wasn't missing in the first place. They were attacked in a cabin deep in the woods and he was the only one to make it out. He was sure his parents were dead."

"Attacked?" I asked. "I want to talk to him again. Get more information."

"He doesn't want to talk to you anymore." Dean said. "You brought up some bad memories."

I sighed. "Fine. I go to the town and find him. I'm posing as a detective investigating the missing hikers."

"He lets you into his apartment but doesn't want to be the first to talk."

"I ask him what happened to his family."

"They were attacked back in '59. He says he was just a kid, sleeping on the floor of their cabin. He claims it was a grizzly attack."

"I ask him what the thing looked like. I don't know if I believe that it was a grizzly. Did he get a good look?"

"The man, Mr. Shaw, didn't get a good look. In fact, when you ask him what he saw, he says, and I quote, 'Nothing. It moved too fast to see.' He says it dragged his parents away kicking and screaming and let him go. Then, in creepy old man fashion, he flashes some skin and shows you a four fingered scar on his shoulder."

No. Did he really choose this one for my final test? I had the same scar. A wendigo scar. From when I helped rescue a de-aged Dean from two wendigoes a few months ago. Had he really intentionally brought that up again? Had he really just chosen a monster that I faced back when I was still... innocent? When I was still naive about hunting and thought myself untouchable? Had he intentionally decided to force me through those painful memories for the sake of a stupid test?

It must be a trick. Dean wasn't that cruel... was he?

"I ask him where the cabin was."

"Just a few miles from the ridge where the coordinates pointed." Dean said.

What else could it be? What else was fast and had claws and hunted people? Skinwalker, maybe. Black dog. Werewolf. The list went on. I would definitely need more info.

"Are there any recent missing hikers?" I asked.

"Who are you asking? Mr. Shaw?"

"No, I guess I call the ranger station."

"There you go. No, but a group of three went up just last week. The family of one of them has been pitching a fit about having no contact with their brother for three days, but the hikers aren't due back for another four. Ranger Wilkinson sounds very frustrated on the phone."

My stomach turned anxiously. The action surprised me and I gagged before I could hide it. Blood rushed to my face as I fought back the urge to spill what little was in my stomach. Poor Dean would be right in the crossfire.

"Whoa, Li. You okay?" Dean asked, leaning away from me. "Green is not your color."

"Shut up. I want to talk to the family." I said after a moment. Deep breaths… Deep breaths… This would be over soon and then I could go spend the rest of my free time in the bathroom.

"You sure you don't want to-"

"Dean. The family. What do they say?" I snapped.

"Suit yourself. Just don't up chuck on me. Let's see… The family consists of two brothers and a sister; one brother left a week ago and has been checking in via satellite phone very day. No parents, just the three of them. He's missed the last three check-ins and his sister has hired a hunter- a fuzzy forest critter hunter- to take them into the back country and look for him."

"I tell them I'm a ranger and tag along." I said. "Can't hurt, right?"

"The hunter doesn't like you, but he takes you to the ridge where the hikers went missing. The hike takes all day."

"Anything remarkable along the way?" I asked.

"Lots of birds and bugs making noise for most of the hike."

"And the rest of the hike?"

"Silence. Not a peep from any critter. Only sounds are coming from you and your posse."

"Is it the last part of the hike that gets quiet? Or is it in the middle?"

"The last hour. Complete silence."

"So there is something supernatural to this case." I said to myself. "Not just bears." I swallowed hard, trying to keep my stomach contents where they belonged. "Did we find the campsite or was it gone?"

"Your guide finds the campsite before you do. It's a mess. Torn tents, gear tossed all over, blood splattered on everything."

"I want to look around. Any interesting findings? In the campsite or around it?" I asked.

Dean met my eyes. "First off, if you're in the woods and it's silent, don't go anywhere alone. Second, if you're in the woods and you think there's a creature there too, don't go anywhere alone." His expression told me he was deadly serious.

"Okay. I'll make a mental note." I said, slightly taken aback by his intensity. This must have been one of his and Sam's more personal stories. I wondered if they lost someone because someone went off alone. I wondered if one of them got hurt…

He returned his attention to his journal and found his place. "You look around the camp with the others and find nothing special about it, other than the fact that all the tears are in sets of four and there are bloody claw marks on the trees. You and the guide circle the site and find signs that bodies were dragged, but no prints."

"Follow the drag marks."

"They end just a few feet from the campsite, but there's nothing there."

I looked to the ground, trying to collect my thoughts through the building nausea. Couldn't be a black dog then. Or a skinwalker for that matter. "Any bodies nearby?" I asked. Bodies without hearts would be a dead giveaway for werewolves.

"No."

I was pulling a blank. It seemed like the case just dead ended. Maybe I could go back once this little search party was called off and ask around some more…

"As you're looking through the site, your companions drop their gear, but you hold yours because if they saw what was in your bag you'd be in it deep. Suddenly, you hear someone yelling for help from a couple hundred yards away." Dean said. "What do you do?"

"Go to them, obviously. With a buddy, so I'm not alone." I added in the last sentence quickly so I wouldn't get failed due to 'poor strategy'.

"Everybody goes and runs to the sound. It stops and you can't find anything. When you return to the site, all the other packs, and the only satellite phone, are gone."

I blinked at him for moment. No werewolf would have the foresight to steal bags and corner their victims. Mostly they just ambushed. That's what Bobby told me at least… This was smart. It wanted to wall us off from help. And if it really was as fast as Mr. Shaw said it was, we didn't stand a chance out in the open. "I still have my bag, right?" I asked.

"Yes, you didn't want to leave it to be picked through by curious eyes. Always a good idea, by the way. Don't let civilians see in your purse."

"What's in it? Can I pick?" I asked.

"You have several guns with iron and silver rounds, a couple knives, again, iron and silver. Some flare guns, a first aid kit, ammunition. Maybe a bottle of water, canister of salt, rosary, and uh… granola bar or something." Dean said.

"That's perfect." I said, smiling. My smile faded quickly. "I, uh, make a circle of Anasazi symbols and tell everyone to stay inside." Please don't make me do the speech. Please don't make me do the speech…

"You're scaring the whole group. The guide thinks you're nuts." Dean said sharply. "They're gonna go back for the sound, try to find the person."

"Dean, I've never had to make the 'monsters are real' speech. Nobody told me how." I said, exasperated. What if he failed me over a bad, BS-ed speech?

"Make somethin' up, then. Just figure out how to make them stay in the circle."

I groaned. "Okay…"

"Pretend I'm the people you're trying to convince."

I looked up at him and bit my lip nervously. This scenario was getting too real. I felt the edge of something horrifying nipping at the back of my mind, but if I ignored it, it wasn't too bad. I just had to make it through this test and then I could flee and curl up alone for a while. "Okay, uh… You heard the voice, right? The one that seemed to come from nowhere?"

"Yeah."

"And we couldn't find your brother or the others because the marks on the ground ended without so much as a paw print?"

"Yup."

"I think we're dealing with something smarter than a bear. It's an incredible hunter, and fast too. It takes people. Carries them away to a kind of storage place, somewhere dark and hidden."

"Like a mountain lion? Lady, I'm having trouble following you."

This was harder than I thought. "Have you ever heard of demons? Werewolves? Vampires?"

"Yeah, in stories and movies."

"They're real. Not exactly like in the moves, though. The legends get some things wrong, but the creatures are real. I think what we're dealing with here is a…" I swallowed back another wave of nausea and my shoulder began to throb. Angry pulses tugged through my scars, bringing back the terrifying memories. "A wendigo."

Dean watched me for a moment and I wasn't sure if he was still acting or if he was really concerned about my behavior. "You seem upset. You okay?"

"The symbols will protect us. The thing can't cross over them. Just stay inside the circle and don't run if it starts calling out again, or growling. It can mimic a human voice." I said quickly, rubbing my shoulder and looking at the floor with tears forming in my eyes. This was not the kind of reaction I thought I'd have during this test. The terror, adrenaline, hopelessness of that mine came flooding back to me, building on the nausea in the pit of my stomach. It was overwhelming.

"No, Li. Hang on for a minute. You're acting funny. Something wrong?" Dean asked. Then a flash of realization lit up his face. "Is this about what happened a couple months ago?"

"I'm fine." I said, flashing my best fake smile at him. "Do the people decide to stay or should I keep talking?"

Dean's voice was softer than before when he answered. "They believe you, all but the guide. He only stays in because his client stays in. You survive the night."

"Great. It's easier to hunt in the daytime. I want to look for more claw marks on trees. You said the claw marks on the tents matched the ones on the trees. Maybe I can find a trail."

"Clever girl. You find a series of marks that lead away from the campsite. Are you bringing your crew or not?"

"Yes. I don't know how far the marks go and I don't want to leave them without protection." I said.

"The symbols are still good." Dean said, shrugging. "You could just tell them to stay put."

I felt the bitchface settle in place. "Really? You think they're gonna stay where I tell them to stay? No, they're coming with me."

"Good answer. You follow the trail for hours. The sun is starting to set when you stop and realize you are surrounded by clawed trees. The trail stops." Dean said dramatically.

"Just like that? What's around?" I asked, confused. Surely the claw marks didn't just stop in the middle of nowhere.

"Trees. Nothing but trees and rocks and hills as far as you can see."

"I guess we make camp then." I said, rubbing my stomach absently. Even though this was just a roleplay, and I was with Dean, safe in the bunker, the thought of spending another night in a forest with a wendigo made me tense up. The tension only served to goad my stomach into rolling and sloshing more than it had before.

Dean looked me up and down with worry on his face. Luckily, he only paused a moment before continuing the test. "As you're drawing the symbols, you hear a loud growl, followed by a weapon discharge and screaming. You look around and see the brother and sister safe behind you, but the guide is gone. What now?"

"Follow the screams. Try to find him." I whispered, closing my eyes. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate with this feeling in my stomach. "Maybe he'll lead us to the wendigo's hole-up."

"You follow the screams until they stop. There are no drag marks." Dean said. "Li, are you sure you can finish this? You're turning green again."

"Are there any claw marks? Anything out of the ordinary?" I asked quickly.

"No claw marks, but you see something shiny on the ground. Upon closer inspection, it's a bullet."

"Any more around?"

"Yes. You find a trail. Good ol' boy must've had them in his pockets when you started the hike."

"Follow the bullets, keep the people behind me." I said, clutching my stomach and resisting the urge to double over.

"The trail leads to a mine-"

"Dammit." I growled. No flashbacks. No flashbacks. "I make a circle for the siblings and go in alone. I bring the flares from the bag and a knife."

"It's a big mine."

"I follow the friggin' bullets."

"Li, I really think-"

"Finish this test, Winchester." I growled, glaring at him.

"Okay, okay. Cool your jets. The bullets lead you to a room in a lower level of the mine where you find several bodies hung from the ceiling with ropes. No sign of the creature."

"Is one of them the guide?" I asked. "And the brother?"

"You find both, but the guide is dead. His insides are, um, out."

I gagged at the visual and took several deep breaths. "Cut the brother down."

"He's unconscious."

"Well, I wake him up."

"He can barely stand. He's not coherent. You hear a growl from a mine passage above you." Dean said.

"Wait, no…" I could feel the rush coming. It was the same feeling whether I was awake or asleep. A nightmare was about to unfold. I wanted to reach out and hold onto Dean, to ground myself, but it was too late.

 _"Remember to stay inside the circle, even if you hear someone screaming for help. Even if it's Dean's voice." Sam warned as he threw a few more logs on the fire. We'd been searching for days in the woods around where Dean was taken and we'd had no luck in finding even a hint that he was nearby._

 _"Cas, please!" Something shouted, loud and clear from the trees around us. "Sam, help me!" It sounded just like Dean, but warped a little. Too low in pitch or too high when it spoke. Too rough and then too smooth. A cheap copy._

 _"Don't leave the circle." Sam warned, his eyes scanning the pitch black woods. Something rustled behind me and I whipped around. Sam followed the sound and Cas watched our backs. I caught a glimpse of a very pale streak as it seemed to fly over the ground just outside where the firelight illuminated the Anasazi symbol ring. I gasped and drew closer to Cas, pressing my back to his._

 _"Stay calm." Cas murmured. "It can't cross the symbols."_

 _An object came flying at us from beyond the darkness. Sam knocked it out of the air. By the flickering light of the fire, we could all see that it was a boot._

 _An old, worn boot._

 _Dean's boot._

"No no no, stop." I whispered to myself, shuddering as I pressed my hands against the sides of my head. I'd relived this moment countless times in my nightmares, but never while I was awake. It was so much more vivid in consciousness.

 _We went to the next mine. I felt left out, having been told to sit outside in a circle of symbols. "Uh, hey Cas. I'm praying to you because I'm in the mine. Surprise. I found Dean's other boot behind a tree and I'm pretty sure the Wendigo is in here. I'm gonna keep going until I have to turn around, so come find me if you don't find anything. Thanks. Oh, and I have the extra blow tor-" I turned to look down the hall behind me and saw a figure where my headlamp went. It was tall and had no shoes._

 _But its eyes were bright white. I screamed as loud as I could and ran forward as fast as possible. The thing behind me howled and gave chase. A little ways up the tunnel, I could see a break in the wall. It looked like I could just fit through the crack; I hoped that the Wendigo couldn't._

 _Just before I slipped through the crack, the monster took a swipe at me, ripping through my three layers of clothes. I was out of its reach, but it was out of my sight before I was able to pull the trigger on my flare gun. I was breathing heavily, adrenaline pulsing through me as I wiggled my way further down the crack until it widened out into a small cavern._

 _I was trapped by a wendigo that had kidnapped and possibly killed my friend in a tiny cavern in an abandoned mine in the middle of the vast forest surrounding Centerville. No cell reception, no way to communicate with the guys except through one sided prayers to Cas. If he was even getting them; he was still so weak. I sat against the wall near the crack for a few minutes, taking in the pain – physical, emotional – that I was feeling. The wendigo was silent, so I had no idea whether or not it was still around. I only knew that it couldn't get to me in here._

"Please." I sobbed, begging my brain to stop replaying the memory. Breaths came in shallow gasps but I couldn't stop it. It couldn't stop any of it.

 _A soft scratching sound came from behind me. I turned around quickly, most of my energy zapped, and looked with my headlamp down into the pit where I thought the noise came from._

 _There was a muddy pile of clothes down there, pressed into a small dip in the wall. A green canvas jacket and maybe a black shirt in a little heap. Nothing that was big enough to hide Dean's six one frame. The drop off was about four feet so I jumped in, wincing at the pain in my legs, and walked to where the pile was. I was thinking maybe a small animal dragged Dean's clothes in here to make a nest._

 _The pile wiggled slightly and I took a step back. I thought I saw something pink in there somewhere… Wild animals don't usually have pink showing, unless it was a nose… I took a deep breath and tightened my ponytail before approaching the pile again._

 _I pulled the jacket off of the pile._

 _Two big green eyes looked up at me. Something strong pulled at my heartstrings and I fell to my knees in front of the pile of clothes. "D-Dean?" I stammered. The toddler before me whimpered and I saw his little bottom lip start to tremble. He said something that sounded like 'Li', like Ali without the 'a'. A huge, sad smile spread across my face; we'd found Dean._

"Dean," I cried out, my eyes squeezed shut and pouring tears. "Make it stop."

"It's okay. Breathe, Li." Dean said. He was suddenly beside me, arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer and rocking me gently. It hurt my back a little but then so did the shuddering, and he was holding me steady. He was holding me together. "Just breathe. You're here in the bunker. We're talking, we're safe. No monsters can get in here. Just breathe."

"A-are my ten seconds up? I-I help him to the wall and go f-f-find the wendigo. I shoot it with the flare gun a-and help the brother out. His s-siblings help me carry him to the road. Case dismissed, r-right?" I stammered, unable to open my eyes.

"Sounds like. Just relax, Li. Breathe four seconds in, eight out. Do it with me." Dean said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. I tried to breathe with him. I really did.

 _His tiny face was caked in dirt and snot and streaked with dried tears. He sat up and I could tell he was shivering. Hesitantly, I reached out and wiped some of the tears and dirt from his face. He leaned into my hand and started crying, sobbing loudly just like any other eighteen-month-old child would do. He was still loosely wrapped in a black t shirt but it was for a full grown man and provided little protection. I unzipped my coat and the jacket underneath and picked the child up. He didn't weight more than twenty-five pounds. I tucked him into the right side of my jacket and zipped it so that only his face was showing. I zipped the coat over that and shivered myself. He was freezing. His lips were even blue. I wondered how much longer he could have survived down in this pit, with the wendigo prowling around._

 _Like a bullet from a pistol, I burst from the crack. I sprinted as fast as I could while still keeping Dean with me. The corridor was so narrow that I had to run somewhat sideways to accommodate the extra width in my jacket._

 _An almighty roar erupted from deep within the mine._

 _I stifled a scream and pushed faster. I made it to where the tunnel widened out a little and was able to really haul. By then my calves burned and my lungs felt fit to burst, but I could hear its footsteps and that was a problem. It was getting so close I could hear it breathing by the time I passed the first fork in the tunnel I had come to earlier. Day light hit my face and I ran with renewed vigor. I made a hard right out of the mine and kept going until I heard Sam's flare gun go off and a massive howl rip through the trees. Dropping to my knees, I slid to a stop in the loose dirt. I let the flare gun and the flashlight fall from my hand. I hugged even Dean closer to me, cradling him, and cried tears of fear, anguish, loss… pain._

"Kole…" I sobbed, feeling the nearly scarred over rip in my heart tear open once again at the thought of my little boy, taken too soon. "Dean, please. Make it stop." I cried, holding onto him for dear life.

"It's okay. We're safe now. You're safe." Dean said gently, hugging me closer. "Nothing is going to hurt you here." I felt him start rubbing small, soothing circles over my back. The action accomplished its desired effect; I melted into him, letting the occasional residual sob out. Surely I was soaking his shirt with saltwater, but he didn't seem to mind. He just held me close and rubbed my back. He even started humming a song I didn't recognize at first. After a few minutes, I realized that it was the same one he'd hummed to me when I first arrived at the bunker, before I would even talk to the guys. He'd take his turn watching me and if I started to freak out or lose my sanity, he'd hum and rub my back until I calmed down.

It was moments like this that made me think Dean could be a great dad one day.

 _"You would have been a great mom." Sam whispered. I smiled to myself and let the heartache pulse through my chest; it was my constant lullaby nowadays._

The same held true even now. Heartache was such a consistent part of my life that I hardly even acknowledged it anymore. I really should tell the guys about the baby. Maybe that would help dull the pain.

But not yet. I couldn't tell them yet. I had to pass the tests first. No way was I going to be a bunker nerd. Then again, maybe they'd figure it out before I was able to tell them.

"Oh no." I gasped, pushing Dean away and clutching my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach emptied. The door slammed shut behind me.

* * *

 **A/N: Just so y'all are aware, Kole is the name of her son, whom she miscarried back in my story Internal Medicine. Curious? Internal Medicine is a great read. See for yourself. This chapter in Family Practice has flashbacks that originate from Chapter 9 (White Eyes) in Internal Medicine if you want to read the whole passage. But of course, don't forget to review this chapter before you go! See you next time.**


	8. Unfair

**A/N: Vivi here! It's a surprise Friday Bonus Chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

"You would have been a great mom." Sam whispered. I smiled to myself and let the heartache pulse through my chest; it was my constant lullaby nowadays.

 _The same held true even now. Heartache was such a consistent part of my life that I hardly even acknowledged it anymore. I really should tell the guys about the baby. Maybe that would help dull the pain._

 _But not yet. I couldn't tell them yet. I had to pass the tests first. No way was I going to be a bunker nerd. Then again, maybe they'd figure it out before I was able to tell them._

 _"Oh no." I gasped, pushing Dean away and clutching my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach emptied. The door slammed shut behind me._

* * *

I heard a set of footsteps and a pair of crutches out in the hall. "What happened?" The voice sounded like Sam's. No one entered the bathroom, letting me retch in peace.

"She got upset and ran out. I think her stomach is acting up." The other voice was Dean's.

I heaved once again, groaning loudly.

"Why was she upset?" Sam asked.

There was silence where Dean should've replied.

"You didn't. Dean, I specifically asked you not to do a demon or wendigo." Sam said harshly.

"I had to know if she could keep it together in the heat of the moment."

"That wasn't the heat of the moment, Dean. The heat of the moment was the blood dripping down her back when she carried you out of a mine, sprinting for both your lives, as a wendigo chased not fifteen feet behind her. If it hadn't been under a witch's spell, it would've caught her and killed you both. She's traumatized and you just put her through all that hell again." Sam paused. "You knew she'd lose it. You wanted her to fail."

"No shit, Sam. If she fails, she can't get hurt." Dean's voice was suddenly loud and full of tension.

"If she fails she'll just follow behind us and get herself killed." Sam snapped.

"Not if we lock her down here." Dean said, his voice much calmer than before.

"We're not gonna treat her like some fairytale princess in a tower, Dean. She's a human being. She should get to choose how she wants to live her life."

"As far as I'm concerned we're still responsible for her. And she hasn't been acting like herself lately."

"Okay, sure, we can be responsible for her. But that doesn't mean locking her away and never letting her see the sun is the right way to do that."

"I thought you'd want her to be safe."

"I do, Dean. But she can be safe around us. It's better if she's with us."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Sure you don't just want her with us because you feel the need to be close to her all the time? Because leaving her here would mean weeks away from her?" Dean asked in a hushed, tense voice. I could barely hear them now; I had to really listen between bouts of nausea.

"Dean, it's not like that-"

"Because I still see you checking on her all the time, asking how she's doing, seeing if she looks at you the way you look at her."

"Stop, Dean. Just stop. This isn't about me. It doesn't matter what I want. She wants to help us out on jobs and I say let her."

"Well it's a damn good thing you think your wants don't matter, because she failed the last scenario, Sam. You won't be seein' much of her once we start picking up jobs again. She's bunker-grounded."

"What? How'd she fail?" Sam sounded upset, disappointed. I was equally as upset and disappointed, if not moreso. How had I failed? I did everything right; I solved the case and killed the monster. He even said the case was closed.

"She went off alone to hunt the wendigo." Dean said sternly.

"Dean, you did the same thing when we hunted our first."

"Yeah, but she shouldn't have gone alone like that. She could've gotten killed."

"Are you making a rule after the fact? Did you tell her she absolutely couldn't go alone or she'd fail?"

"No."

"You're babying her, aren't you? Dean, you're such a hypocrite. You just told me to stop giving her special treatment and then you go and do the same thing."

"She still failed."

"You can't fail her for going out alone. In the scenario, did she live and kill the monster without major injury or losing a life?"

"Well, yeah. I mean… yeah."

"Then it worked out. Just, when we're on real jobs, tell her to stick with one of us. Don't fail her because she did the same thing we do all the time. That's hardly fair."

"Life's not fair, Sam." Dean snapped. "Just look at your leg. Look at Cas. Look at all the scars Li already has. Just look at the way we live. What about this is fair?"

"Don't fail her, Dean. Don't force her to do something dangerous over something this trivial." Sam's voice was low and steady. "You know she will."

I retched again and whimpered as the acid burned my throat. The door to the bathroom opened and I heard a set of footsteps enter. With my foot, I opened the door of my stall so Dean could find me.

"Hey, Li. What's goin' on?" Dean asked softly, standing just outside the stall I'd occupied.

"I don't know." I whispered. He was about to tell me I'd failed. The thought made my stomach even angrier and I gagged over the bowl. "Probably took too many pain meds. Upset my stomach." I lied as best I could. The sheen of sweat and tears helped it sound better, but I still wasn't convinced that Dean was convinced.

"Hmm. Want me to get Cas? See if anything else is goin' on? Maybe you have a stomach bug." Dean said. "Maybe he just didn't see it before."

"No, I'll be fine." I said, my voice shaking. The pain in my back was worse than before, worse than yesterday, or… whenever I fell. I lost track of time. There really was no sunlight in the bunker at all. It could be one in the morning for all I knew.

"Why don't we get you to bed, huh? I'll bring you a bucket. Sittin' like that can't feel good with your back so screwed up."

I rested my forehead on my arm, overtop of the bowl. "I'm exhausted."

"All the more reason to go to bed." Dean said lightheartedly.

"Dean… Did I pass the last part?" I whispered quietly, barely breathing. Maybe if I acknowledged my mistake, he'd reconsider… "I know I went off alone, but I wouldn't do that in real life. Safety in numbers, right? I was just trying to end the scenario faster. I felt the nightmare coming."

There was a long silence in the room until I retched once again. My throat burned and I could taste the acid on the back of my tongue even after I spit. "Bedtime, Raggedy Ann. Come on." Dean helped me up and we walked slowly to my room, past Sam, who looked as upset as he sounded earlier. I sat slowly on my bed and took careful breaths to try to calm the electric storm in my back. "You need more aspirin?" Dean asked. He looked worried.

"Tylenol. Just two this time." I said, trying to make it seem like the three pills from earlier were the cause of my discomfort.

"Okay. Stay put." Dean left just as Sam came in with a bottle of water.

"Heard you had to go through the wendigo scenario." He said softly as he sat with me on my bed. I just nodded and looked at the floor. I knew I'd failed. He knew I'd failed. I was hoping he wouldn't bring it up. "Dean doesn't remember a whole lot from… back then. He doesn't remember you getting the scars on your shoulder or when the four of us were hunted by that witch in the forest. I don't think he knows that the wendigo hunted us before we found him either. A lot of it, especially those first few days when he was really sick, is still pretty blurry for him. He doesn't know…" Sam trailed off, searching for words.

"What, Sam? That he threw cereal at the angel? That he tried to eat a clip of bullets? That he was rocked to sleep by everyone in the bunker at one time or another?" I asked quietly, letting my head fall into my hands. I knew he didn't remember most of it; it was kind of a relief. He was in the body of an eighteen month old, after all, with just as much memory and attention span. The hundreds of dirty diapers that Sam and I changed hadn't been so much as mentioned since we got Dean back to the proper age; we didn't want to have that conversation any more than Dean did.

"He doesn't know what it did to you, that experience. I never thought you'd get hurt, or I wouldn't have let you come." Sam said. Absently, I moved one hand to rub at the ridges on my shoulder.

"I'd have come anyway." I said. "I hid in Cas' car to get to you and got a tattoo to stay hidden from angels and witches, didn't I? There's not a lot that can stop me from coming with you guys."

"Ahem." Sam and I looked up to my doorway. Dean was watching us with a concerned expression. He had the bottle of Tylenol in his hand.

"Great. Thanks, Dean." I said, holding out my hand for the medicine. I didn't even care if he'd been listening in. The screaming pain in my back kind of tuned out the embarrassment.

"I threw cereal at Cas?" Dean asked, slightly horrified, as he handed over the precious.

"Yeah, dude. On several occasions. You fell asleep on him once too." Sam smirked. "Here, look." He pulled out his phone and brought up the picture he'd taken of tiny Dean sleeping soundly on Cas. They were sitting at the library table while I made dinner. Cas had fallen asleep too, shortly after Dean. They'd both been snoring when the picture as taken.

"Dude, delete that." Dean snapped, making a grab for the phone. Sam tucked it away quickly, laughing wholeheartedly as he did so. "Give it," Dean griped, reaching around Sam's head, still trying to get the device. I laughed as they grappled one another, Dean being careful not to hurt Sam's leg and Sam trying his best to fend off the attack while still laughing.

"I have it saved and printed in like six places, man. It's here to stay." Sam laughed.

"Dammit." Dean gave up and glared at him. Then he turned his attention to me, his eyes full of accusation. "Were you in on that?"

I couldn't help but smile as I took my meds. "I was making dinner. I needed someone to watch you while Sam was out getting the hex bag we left behind. Cas was tired, but hey, so were you. It worked out."

"I don't believe this." Dean grumbled, heading for the door. Then he stopped short and turned around, pointing a finger at me. "You're lucky I already decided you passed that last test. Don't push your luck, Princess." I sat in stunned silence as he stormed out. The hall echoed as he slammed his door shut.

"I passed?" I whispered to myself in disbelief.

"Why wouldn't you? Congratulations, Ali. You're halfway there." Sam said with a grin. "Only two more tests to finish."

I looked at Sam and couldn't help but smile. Undoubtedly his conversation with Dean had swayed the overprotective hunter in my favor. "I get to live free another day." I said excitedly. "No bunker nerd status for me. At least until the next test. Do you know which one it is?"

"I can't tell you or he'd claim you had extra prep time. Sorry." Sam said. "But there shouldn't be anything this traumatic in the last two."

"I'm glad to hear that." I said, shaking my head. "I haven't had a flashback that strong since… Well, probably since before Francesca took over the last time."

"It doesn't get better, by the way. Being a hunter… You have to do a lot of things that terrify you, and you never forget those things. Sometimes they come back to bite you. Well, metaphorically. You just learn to cope." Sam said. "There's no shame in deciding this life isn't for you. You can still live here. You can help us from the bunker. Or you could go make a new life for yourself. We'll set you up somewhere. This isn't your only choice."

"I'm well aware, Sam. But there's no way I can go have a normal life now that I know what's out there. Believe me, I'd love to bury myself in an honest job, have a place to call home, fall in love again, maybe raise some kids-" Shit. How had that slipped out? Maybe if I just stay cool and pretend it's nothing he won't notice and start asking questions… "But there's just no way for all that to be my life anymore. There's a powerful demon who wants me as her permanent vessel, Sam. How could I start a new life with that hanging over my head?"

"The demon is locked away, Ali. It can't get to you. And it never will."

"How can you be so sure it won't escape?" I asked softly. "She's just in a box. Open it and she's free."

"The box is safe where we're storing it. As long as it's in good condition and stays shut, there's no way for the demon to get out. You'll just have to believe me, okay?"

"I believe you." I said quickly. "But what if her devoted followers find the box and let her out?"

"No monster that we know of can get in the bunker with the warding that's set up." Sam said. "You have nothing to fear here."

"The demon got in when it was stuck in me. It was here for five months." I said quietly, staring at the floor.

Sam sighed. "It was too weak to be affected by the warding, and too weak to take over your body. That won't happen again, right? We fixed your possession tattoo."

"Right." I took a deep breath. It's not like she could just cut a slice of ink out of it like she did last time… "Do you know what time it is?"

"About nine. Hungry?" Sam asked. "You slept through dinner."

"If I eat, it won't stay down for very long." I yawned. Exhaustion was quickly clawing back into my bones. "I think I'm just going to sleep."

"Rest up, Ali. If you need me, I'm just down the hall." Sam said gently. I laid down after he shut my door. Laying on my stomach hurt the least of any position I tried, but I didn't know how many more nights I could sleep in that position. My chest was beginning to get sore.

Sleep found me easily; the nightmare featured tonight was nothing compared to the flashback I'd had earlier. I could handle the familiar, made up scene that I saw every so often behind my eyelids. We were in the Impala, just Sam, Dean, and I. Everything was fine until I started bleeding. I was so scared during the dream that I never stopped in the moment to figure out where I was bleeding from; there was just always so much blood. It always ended with me bleeding myself unconscious while Sam yelled at me to stay awake and someone- I didn't know who but it wasn't Dean- cried in the background. This was the most mild of my nightmares recently; it was almost a welcome relief.

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 **A/N: Don't forget to review! See you tomorrow!**


	9. Shots Fired

**A/N: Vivi here! So apparently Sunday is Saturday because I completely forgot to post yesterday. Sorry! Anyway, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it; let me know if you do or don't!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _Sleep found me easily; the nightmare featured tonight was nothing compared to the flashback I'd had earlier. I could handle the familiar, made up scene that I saw every so often behind my eyelids. We were in the Impala, just Sam, Dean, and I. Everything was fine until I started bleeding. I was so scared during the dream that I never stopped in the moment to figure out where I was bleeding from; there was just always so much blood. It always ended with me bleeding myself unconscious while Sam yelled at me to stay awake and someone- I didn't know who but it wasn't Dean- cried in the background. This was the most mild of my nightmares recently; it was almost a welcome relief._

* * *

"Wake up, Ali." Someone said cheerfully from behind my door. The voice was followed by several firm knocks.

I groaned, afraid to move. The voice pulled me from the nightmare before I'd bled out, but the position I found myself laying in was pain free. Blissfully pain free for the first time in a long time.

"Can I come in?" The voice asked.

"Yeah." I grumbled into my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut in anticipation of the coming hallway light.

Suddenly something landed on either side of me. My eyes flew open as my body bounced between the things and I rolled over in surprise. I came face to face with Sam, who was on his hands and knees overtop of me, smiling like an idiot.

"What is going on?" I snapped, shocked.

"Good morning to you too." Sam said happily, the smile not waning an inch.

I was silent for a few seconds as my brain tried to process the scene before me. Sam was on top of me, making me blush like a schoolgirl. That meant his hips were flexed. He must not have been wearing his brace; his femur could pop out of place again and he'd need another surgery. "Sam, where's your brace? You know you have to wear that for a few more weeks."

"I've resolved the issue." There was another voice at the door.

I'd know that voice anywhere, even though I couldn't see his face through Sam, who still hadn't moved. "Morning, Cas." I said slowly. "What's going on?"

"I've regained enough strength to heal Sam's hip and foot."

"I see that now." I said, looking up at Sam again. My stomach did little flips. Not angry flips like yesterday; these had no nausea in their wake. I felt my face getting hot again. "Please don't bounce me, Sam. You'll hurt my back." Every muscle in my body seemed to be tense as they anticipated the pain of such a sudden movement. Surely when he got off of me and the adrenaline dissipated, the electrical storm would return with a vengeance.

"Cas fixed you too." Sam said, finally moving off of me. I tensed even tighter than before, dreading the coming fire. He went to stand at the foot of my bed.

"Sam insisted I heal you first, actually. You were asleep." Cas said. "I apologize if I invaded your personal space. Dean has been helping me to understand the concept and it's still rather odd to me."

"So… You healed me while I was asleep?" I asked, still not willing to move lest the pain return.

"Yes. You should have no pain now that the muscle fibers have been repaired and the bruised bone solidified." Cas said from the doorway.

Just then, my usual alarm went off. I reached out unconsciously to turn it off and stopped short just after I pushed the button. No pain. There was no pain when I moved. I sat up quickly. No pain in my back or my neck. My tailbone didn't hurt anymore. A huge smile spread across my face. No soreness, no bone pain, no muscle pain, no stomach pain… It was a great feeling. "Welcome back, Cas."

"Thank you, it's good to be back." Cas said with a slight smile on his face.

"Ali, are you good to do another test? It's a quick one, won't take more than ten minutes." Sam asked as I stood and tested out my new back.

"Uh, I guess. Before breakfast, you mean?"

"Yeah. I'll go wake Dean up." Sam rushed from the room. I could hear him running down the hall; he must have gone stir crazy being confined to those crutches for a few weeks.

As I listened to Sam run down the hall, a wave of anxiety rushed over me. This was only the second time I'd been alone with Cas since I fell; the first time I wasn't able to ask him something that has been on my mind since that pile of mud crashed down into my lap. "Cas, was a bruised tailbone and strained muscles really all I got from falling?" I asked quietly, approaching him in the doorway. "My tattoo didn't pull, so I didn't call you right away, but did anything happen?" My voice became barely a whisper as I soothed my hands over my stomach, imagining the life inside. "Is my little champ okay?"

Cas rested a hand on my shoulder and closed his eyes. After a moment, he reopened them. "The child is in perfect health and the sigil is functioning properly." Cas paused for a moment. "Would you like to know the sex of the child?"

I looked at him suspiciously. "You can tell the sex already?" Normally it would take eighteen to twenty weeks or more for modern technology to determine the sex of a fetus noninvasively. I was rather shocked that Cas even offered to tell me. He hadn't exactly been happy with me these past few weeks. I refused to tell the guys about the baby and he promised me that he wouldn't tell them. Of course, he hadn't known at the time that I never planned on telling them; if he'd known that, he probably would have just told them himself as soon as he saw the soul under my heart; right after that book hit my head in the Cas-quake, when he regained complete control of his previously witch-bound grace.

"A Y chromosome looks very different from an X chromosome. I should be able to see if there are any Y chromosomes in your muscle tissue; if the child is male, he will have already been sending cells to repair damage done to your body throughout your training." Seeing the skeptical look in my eyes, he continued. "If a mother is hurt, the fetus will attempt to aid in mending the injury; it is a phenomenon that your scientists have recently documented. If the child is female, she will have been doing the same, but seeing as you are also female, there would be little difference in the appearance of your DNA until the child is larger and the genes are easier to see. It'll be much easier to tell in a few weeks, but I can find out now, if you'd like. I just need a few minutes to concentrate." Cas said calmly. "Then you wouldn't have to guess or say 'it' or 'he' or 'she' without knowing."

For a few seconds, I contemplated his offer. It would be nice not having to guess at the pronoun to use. I hated having to call the kid 'it' in my head or in conversations with Cas. Lately I'd taken to calling the child 'he' or 'champ', but I really had no idea if it was a 'he' or a 'she'. Honestly I couldn't even feel the baby. Had I not missed a period already, I would have no physical evidence of his or her existence.

Then again, what good would knowing the sex do me? It wasn't like I'd have a baby shower with frustrated guests bringing blue and pink outfits and toys. I wouldn't be decorating a fancy nursery; I'd be lucky to have a place big enough for two bedrooms when the baby came. By then, I would have my own job, my own place, a life apart from the Winchesters where they wouldn't have to slow down and take care of me and the kid when they should be out saving lives from the evils of this world. I would work with them until I started to show, then I would leave. No goodbyes, no announcement of where or why I was going. Our lives would be split cleanly; a clean break is easier to heal.

"No." I said after a while. "Let's make it a surprise. I like surprises."

"I understand. Please remember to be careful, Allison. Had a rock fallen in place of the earth, I wouldn't have been able to help either of you." Cas said, his eyes pained. "You need to take precautions if you plan to engage in that sort of activity."

"Got it." I nodded, crossing my arms. I'd been terrifyingly close to losing the baby, then. My stomach fell and I swallowed hard before speaking again. "Thanks, Cas. So… are you back now? For good this time?"

"Yes. I must admit, being able to fly again makes me very happy." Cas said, a small grin on his face. "However, this means that I will be returning to-"

"Demon hunting. I figured. So you're strong enough to jump right back into the frying pan?" I asked.

"No, not quite. Healing you and Sam took a toll; repairing flesh is always more difficult than killing bacteria. Dean's cold shouldn't take much out of me." Cas shrugged. "I'll need a few more days, but after that, I'll be strong enough to leave."

"You don't have to go, Cas." I said quietly. "You could stay with us. The guys like having you here. I like having you here. It's been… nice having you around for the last few weeks."

Cas smiled sadly. "I've been living under the protection of the Winchesters for that long, Allison. I'm an angel, I shouldn't need protection. I should be the one protecting. While you three are here, or out pursuing relatively low risk creatures, I can better protect humanity by hunting down demons like Francesca."

I flinched at the name, even though it came into my head more than once a day. She was the demon who took my body once to kill my whole family and miscarry my first son, then a second time to kill innocent strangers and nearly cost Sam, Dean, and Cas their lives. I could still hear her voice, which was mine but several octaves higher, lulling strangers out of bars or threatening my friends with a gentle purr to her words.

"Test three?" The voice called from down the hall. I peered around Cas and saw Dean, looking grumpy and newly dragged from sleep, shuffling down the hall while rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. Sam walked in step behind him, seeming to enjoy every moment of pain free movement.

"Guess so." I replied. "So what's this one? Sam said it would be short." As if on cue, my stomach growled. I'd missed dinner last night, after all.

"You've done it before. Dad's shooting test. Ten bottles, ten shots." Dean said, still half asleep.

Dean was right. I had done this one before. And I failed it. I'd wanted to join them on the hunt for a mysterious bear thing with red eyes, but Dean said I had to pass the shooting test to even accompany them. I failed and they left me with Bobby. Shifters and demons came to his house. They kidnapped me and tried to kill the old hunter. Bobby made it out somehow, but I was taken to Francesca. That's when she possessed me the second, and hopefully last, time. I shivered at the memory of two monsters with the faces of my friends telling me to fade away under the demon's control. It was a scene I tried hard to forget; it was a scene that played out behind my eyelids every week or so.

"This time you gotta get all ten bottles though. Eight won't cut it." Dean added before stopping at my room. Cas reached over casually and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead. Dean flinched away and glared, bewildered, at the angel. Cas dropped his hand.

"The hell was- oh." Dean shook his head quickly and blinked a few times. "No more dizzy spells, no more snot. Thanks, man."

"You are welcome."

"But-" I started to argue with the upped bottle count.

"Ten out of ten, Li. If you can't do it, just let me know." Dean shrugged. "We'll set you up a nice office in the library and you can be our bunker nerd. Just think of it: hours of researching, digging up lore, precious seconds of usable information given over the phone before getting hung up on by busy hunters who even sometimes say thank you."

His face was way too smug. "Why won't eight do it this time? It was fine last time."

"Last time you just wanted to tag along. And we didn't know a demon and her hoard of monsters were after you. Things are different now, like it or not."

"Whose gun am I using?" I asked sharply.

Dean reached behind his back and produced his favorite, white handled handgun. "This should work. Sight's true. Clip's got ten bullets. Unless you'd like to pick over our collection."

I took his gun and looked it over. "No, this'll do. To the range?"

"Come on." Dean grumbled as he turned, nearly bumping sleepily into Sam. The three of us made our way down to the range, which was cooler than the rest of the bunker. I was shivering occasionally. My feet, clad only in thick socks, were icy cold. Hopefully I wouldn't shiver one of my shots away.

"I already set up the bottles." Sam said as we entered. I glanced around at the exercise equipment before we passed into the range area. Dean insisted that no equipment be allowed in the range. Probably so no one would trip. If he'd only put his equipment in the other room away reliably, I may not have had a black eye for a week and a half. At least I had little to no chance of tripping a shot away during my test.

"When you're ready." Dean said, folding his arms and standing a few feet behind me.

"Hang on," Sam interrupted, passing around ear protection.

"Really, dude? They're already shot to hell." Dean protested.

"You can still hear rats in the walls of abandoned buildings, Dean. I know, because you squirm every time. Protect what you have left." Sam said, shoving the bulky earmuffs at him. With a huff, Dean put it on. We followed suit.

I could have sworn he grumbled something like 'nasty ass rats', but I couldn't be sure.

After taking a deep breath, I raised the gun and eyed each bottle over the sight, gaging the distance from where I stood to where they were at the end of the range. It was about the same distance as when I practiced with Bobby after failing the first shooting test way back when. I'd only managed to shoot all ten on one occasion. It was probably like riding a bike… right? I flipped the safety off and took a deep, slow breath.

"Any time now." Dean said loudly, his voice muffled by my earmuffs. I pulled the trigger and stifled the recoil. One brown bottle fell in glistening shards to the concrete below, spreading out like confetti at New Years.

"Already better than last time." I said softly to myself, remembering the hole in the windshield of one of Bobby's junk cars. The hole that should have been in the bottle just to its left.

The second and third bottles added green and clear shards to the menagerie on the floor.

"She got better." I heard Sam say to Dean behind me. He sounded impressed. He should be. I practiced for hours in that old junkyard.

I hit bottle number four dead on, but just clipped the side of five. It broke, but the pieces were larger, telling of my near failure. Swallowing hard, I sighted in the last five bottles carefully.

"One miss and you're done." Dean said from behind me just as I was about to pull the trigger.

"I'm well aware." I said as my stomach growled long and low. Patiently, I waited until my stomach stopped growling and my hands stopped shaking from the chill. Then I took down six and seven in a single exhale.

"This is totally unfair." I grumbled to myself, though I knew it wasn't true. Being cold, groggy, hungry- these were all things I would have to fight through to hunt in the real world. In this moment, however, I could only imagine how much easier this test would have been if I'd done it later in the day. After lunch, perhaps…

"Hurry up, Ali. Could be a demon-werewolf-bottle-monster about to rip your throat out." Sam said, half-jokingly. I rolled my eyes and took another deep breath, sending shards of the last three bottles to the floor with the exhale.

"Pass. Now can we go eat?" Dean said. I could tell he was still pissy about being woken up with no time for coffee or food. I grinned and handed his gun back to him, safety on.

Breakfast was nice this morning. Dean softened up after having his coffee and all the bunker's inhabitants sat at the kitchen table, just chatting for an hour or so. We had nowhere to be, nothing to hunt; Bobby told us the world had been pretty quiet lately. He'd been running his normal operation from the bunker, helping out hunters nationwide with unusual or difficult cases.

"Can't wait 'til I got my place back." Bobby grumbled over his scrambled eggs.

"We'll get it back, Bobby." Sam said as he took his plate to the sink.

"You two been sayin' that for near a month now. Those creeps coulda been burnin' my books and breakin' my stuff for all I know." Bobby frowned.

"We know, Bobby. Today's the first day Sam has his legs back and I don't think just you and me coulda cleared the place." Dean said, getting another cup of coffee. "We'll need all the manpower we can muster to take that fortress back. Give us a week or so."

"Ali could help." Sam said from the sink, where he was busy washing dishes. "She passed three of the four, right? Maybe getting Bobby's house back could be the last test?"

"She's not ready for that yet." Dean said into his coffee mug as he took a sip.

"What makes you think I'm not ready? Bobby wants to go home; I can help make that happen. Just let me prove it." I pleaded, breathing through my mouth to avoid gagging at the scent of coffee, which I was pretty sure had become a trigger of my morning sickness.

"No way. You're gonna pass these tests before you even get close to a demon or shifter again." Dean said, dead serious.

"Stop treating me like a kid, Dean." I said angrily, the emotion bubbling up from its deep dark hiding place. The intensity of it surprised even me. "You're making me do all these tests, openly hoping I fail, and using me as an excuse for not helping people. Why can't we just go get Bobby his house back? It's not like we don't know what we're up against. I don't see why it's such a big deal. I can help. Just let me help."

No one spoke for a few seconds. Cas kept his eyes on the book before him, Bobby seemed to somehow fold into his eggs, shutting us out, and Sam, after a surprised and worried glance in my direction, busied himself with dishes. Slowly, Dean stood and took me by the elbow, guiding me into the library and away from the group.

"And what exactly was the purpose of that little outburst?" He asked, voice as calm and steady as the open road.

I glared at him and jerked my elbow away, folding my arms over my chest. "Why can't we just go help Bobby?"

"You're not ready."

"You've said that. Several times. Why do you think I'm not ready?"

"Is there anything you need to tell me?" Dean asked, bouncing my question off with another. His gaze felt like it penetrated my very soul; surely he'd be able to read my mind and find out about the kid. After a few seconds though, he didn't erupt in anger at the knowledge that I'd kept a pregnancy secret from them. He was no mind reader, but he certainly knew something was going on. That was close enough for me. I felt my palms start to sweat and the back of my neck get hot.

To hide my unease, I let my eyes wander the slits in the wooden floor. Without taking too much time, I tried to think up a lie that he'd believe. "No." Not a good lie, but maybe it would work?

"Don't lie to me, Li. You haven't been yourself since that book hit your head in the Cas-quake like four weeks ago. If you don't tell me what's going on, we're taking you to a doctor as soon as those bruises fade." Dean said with an intensity in his voice that I hadn't heard in a long time. "I'm not gonna have you suffer again, even if you say you're fine."

"Really, I'm fine." I said, meeting his eyes once I knew mine had enough false strength behind them. "I have a stomach thing, but it's not that bad. I take pills for it every morning." _Yeah. Pre-natal vitamins._

"Have you always had that?"

"For a while now. It flared up after the demon. She didn't really watch what she was doing." The idea of a baby 'flaring up' didn't really make sense in my head, but if it made sense in the context of the situation, I wouldn't have to outright lie to Dean. We were just talking about two different things: a child and digestion issues.

He looked me up and down, as if he were trying to decide whether or not to believe me. "Anything else I should know?"

I swallowed hard. He wasn't buying it. What to do… What to do…

 _I'm pregnant. My stomach turns at certain smells. I have trouble sleeping; if it's not the nightmares, it's the hormones. Sometimes all I want is a hug. I'll start crying for no reason, but I blame it on something getting in my eye. I can't believe you can already tell I'm pregnant; you don't know that you know, but you do. All I want to do is help you guys but you won't let me if I'm vulnerable like this. If I hadn't helped out in the past, you'd be dead and Sam would've been killed by Francesca's minions weeks ago. Just let me help you; I can't be left alone again._ "No."

"Okay, I don't believe you. But when you're ready, I'm all ears. Now about that outburst." Dean's expression softened considerably. "I'm not treating you like a kid. I wouldn't push a kid to dig a six foot grave or have extensive knowledge of evil. We're preparing you for the real world, Li. You're new at this. You're not ready to go out hunting yet."

"I get that I'm new, but I've been learning so much and I'm a lot better already. And I killed a wendigo and overpowered a demon before, didn't I? Doesn't that count for anything?" I asked, my steam slowly fading. When he pulled me aside, I hadn't been prepared for this kind of conversation. I thought he was going to reprimand me, make me do an additional test or something. I would've never guessed that comforting tone and rational arguments were in store.

"It's good experience, sure. I'll give you that much. But don't go thinkin' that having those experiences under your belt will do you any good in every situation. It takes years to get good at hunting. And honestly, you're right. I have been using you as an excuse not to go out on cases. Sam needed rest, Cas had to recharge, you were recovering from possession- there was no way in hell that I was letting the Three Stooges stay here alone while me and Bobby went out sniffin' for trouble. How could I leave my family unprotected like that while you're as vulnerable as you are?" Dean was making a lot of sense. I'd never viewed it that way. The bunker was supposed to be impenetrable, but if a demon, weak though she was, got in then there were certainly cracks in our wall of protection. The warding couldn't cover all the creatures. Sharp realization sent a shiver down my spine.

I looked away from him, back to the floor, and leaned against a pillar. Suddenly I felt like such an ass for making a scene in front of everyone. Dean had a good reason for his behavior. Well, except… "But why are you hoping I fail these tests? If you want me to be prepared, shouldn't you be helping me pass them?" My voice was quiet; I was trying to hide the emotion that I was pretty sure had been brought on by a wave of hormones.

Dean was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was guarded. "If you fail, you can't get hurt."

"Dean, I'll just find a way to-"

"You know how Dad died, right?" Dean asked, his eyes meeting mine and showing the massive wall he'd built up in his mind to protect himself from the memories I was sure were about to come forth and lash out at him.

"He traded his soul to save yours." I whispered, hating myself for bringing up memories that hurt my friend. "A demon deal."

"You know how Mom died?"

"Uh, fire, I think. Sam told me a couple months ago." I frowned, recalling the long sit-down conversation we'd had when the demon was taken from me the first time. I hadn't been able to get to know the guys for the first five months of my residence in the bunker; the demon prevented me from talking to them for more than a few seconds. Once she was gone though, I savored every detail. We became fast friends and I learned their story. Needless to say, I cried a lot that day.

"Mom, Dad, Bobby's wife, Ash, Pastor Jim- they all died at the hands of demons, Li. All of them. And you have one mother of a boss demon after you. All her devoted followers, too. If I can keep the body count from going up by failing you where you need to be failed, then so be it. If you can't hold your own, there's no way I'm letting you into any kind of action." Dean paused. "When we found out Francesca took over again... Me and Sam didn't sleep for days trying to find you. We put a hunter APB out on you. Sam was so excited when he saw you in that bar, but then at the motel…"

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, sending the bile back to where it belonged. The image of Sam being thrown into a wall and crashing down onto a table filled my mind. The sickening pop of his hip being forced out of place, his cries of pain, cries for his brother when Dean was thrown against another wall and hit his head with enough force to burst a blood vessel. Had Cas not been there with just enough juice to fix the bleed, Dean would've died. Cas passed out after that and didn't wake up for days.

"Even after we caught you for real and took the demon out, you almost died. We almost lost you, Li. We were one outdated syringe of adrenaline away from having to salt and burn you." Dean continued, rubbing his neck. "There's only so much I can handle at a time. I hate to admit it, but Sam and Cas are usually a handful for me. If we throw you into the mix, you need to be able to handle yourself pretty well 'cuz I'm already stretched thin. And if anything happened to you or Sam on my watch…"

"I get it, Dean." I said slowly, softly. The realization that he felt so responsible for Sam and I made me rethink my attitude towards his tests. I already knew Sam had gone through them, though not as regimented as I had. His tests were on the job, in life or death situations. Dean wanted to take that kind of pressure off of me and make sure I wasn't going to get myself or anyone else killed before I went out. "This is rough for you too. I just don't want to be coddled. The way you talk about me makes me feel like a burden. Like you wish I weren't around. Like you wish Cas hadn't brought me here, or healed me after the barn. It would've been so much easier for him to just let me die in there-"

Dean swept me up a strong bear hug. "I'm glad you're here, Li. I just want to keep it that way. I meant it when I called you family."

I hugged him back and felt a few awkward tears slip from my eyes. Stupid hormones. This isn't a Hallmark movie. This was supposed to be an argument. I was furious just a minute ago. Sooner or later I was sure I'd get whiplash from these mood swings.

He let go before I was ready and caught a glimpse of my tears as I wiped them away. "Are you crying?"

"No." I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Got something in my eye."

He gave me the sassiest skeptical look and simply said, "Yeah, okay."

I laughed and punched his shoulder lightly. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we walked back to the kitchen.

"Who's up for a day at the beach?" Dean asked, going to sit back at the table and finish his coffee.

* * *

 **A/N: Review please! I love to hear from you lovely people!**


	10. The Heart of a Winchester

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry this is posted so late today; I had to finish writing it! I also had very little time to edit this chapter, so if you find a mistake, I apologize in advance. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Who's up for a day at the beach?" Dean asked, going to sit back at the table and finish his coffee. I opted to lean against the counter by the sink where Sam was finishing up the dishes._

* * *

"What?" Sam asked, obviously confused. "Did you really just say 'day at the beach'?"

"Yeah, why not? Got no cases goin', Li's doin' good with her tests, we've been cramped in this cave for weeks- why not get out and enjoy the weather? You love outdoorsy crap like that, Sam." Dean said before taking a long draw on his coffee.

"Uh, don't get me wrong, but since when do we just go… relax?" Sam asked. He finished up the dishes and dried his hands. He and I, both leaning on the counter, shot Dean a confused look.

"Exactly. We never have the time. Now we do, for at least a day or two. And you can even swim, now, without that white whale on your foot." Dean nodded to Sam's leg. "Bobby, Cas, you comin'?"

"I actually got work to do, boy. Unlike you four, I got lore to scrounge up for some idjit hunters in over their heads." Bobby said. Surprisingly, he seemed less grumpy than earlier this morning. Maybe it was the coffee, or the eggs I'd made for him… I was trying everything to get on his good side. I didn't know why he seemed to dislike me. Maybe that was his way of showing affection? But he was different with the guys. I knew he cared about them; it showed in their conversation. Surely he and I would get along eventually.

"Cas?" Dean asked, nudging the angel with his elbow.

"What exactly does one do at a beach?"

"People-watch, mostly. When we have weather like this, beautiful women come out of the woodwork. You'll be amazed." Dean said, grinning. "Or you could swim, I guess. There's that too. That's what Sam goes for."

"Come on, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "Why are we really going? Is there a case out that way?"

"No. I'm tellin' you, Sam. Just a quick drive down the road to the lake for some R&R. You comin' or not, Cas?" Dean asked again. "Last chance."

"I think I'll stay here and catch up on demonic activity in this region." Cas said, his voice neutral.

"Fine. Just the three of us then."

"There's a lake nearby?" I asked, my excitement growing at the thought of finally getting to do something outside that wasn't dangerous, strenuous, or work-related. In all the time I'd been at the bunker, we hadn't really gone out to just relax. I didn't even know there was a lake nearby.

"Yeah. Waconda Lake." Sam said with a smile.

* * *

"Pick whatever you want." Sam said as we entered the clothing store. It was just minutes from the lake, and we all needed swimwear if we were going to enjoy the water. A bathing suit was obviously something a hunter rarely used. "I'll foot the bill."

"Good. 'Cuz I have no money." I said simply, eyeing the bright colors that lit up the summer clothing. I felt so out of place in my thrift store jeans, beat up tennis shoes, and faded plaid shirt.

We'd left a few hours after Sam and I agreed to go to the lake. Nothing would be open at six in the morning anyway; the delayed start left me time to pack my bag for an overnight stay, just in case. Dean had said it might be a possibility. I wanted to be prepared. However, I was not prepared to dress like a local. Everyone we'd seen so far had on bright, summery shirts and flip flops. Most wore shorts; we saw an occasional skirt too. I didn't have any of that kind of clothing.

I wandered into the women's department and quickly found a cute white cover up. The material was light and just a little see-through. With this, I could start to blend in.

"Sam, check these out." Dean chuckled from the men's department. I glanced up long enough to see Dean present a pair of neon green swim trunks patterned with bright yellow bananas to Sam. Sam took them and put them back quickly, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. I couldn't help but giggle as Sam's eyes caught mine and he blushed before stopping Dean from showing him another, equally as hideous pair. I had a feeling that this was what shopping with the Winchesters anywhere but a thrift store was usually like. The thought made an amused smile linger on my lips as I browsed my way through the women's swim section.

It didn't take me long to lay eyes on the perfect swimwear: pink, with yellow polka dots. The bikini covered everything when I tried it on and luckily I wasn't showing any baby bump at all just yet. And it was only ten dollars, on sale. A splurge, but I was going to hold Sam to his word. After all, I really had nothing but a pair of shoes, jeans, and a maternity shirt to my name; only the clothes I'd been wearing when Cas brought me to the bunker were actually mine. Everything else, the guys bought for me or gave as hand-me-downs. For a moment, I paused in awe at how kind the three of them had been since I met them. They had been true friends, protectors, since before they had even heard my voice. Such was the heart of a Winchester, I supposed.

I sighed and wandered through the aisles, finding the boys still in the men's swim section. Sam had a pair of gray trunks with a blue waistband hung over his arm. Dean was attempting to convince Sam to trade those for a pair that featured elephants oriented in various suggestive locations on the pattern. One trunk in particular got me giggling. All I could do was laugh until they finally settled on their purchases a few minutes later. Sam stuck with his gray pair, and Dean found a pair that were jet black and had pockets big enough to hide a gun in. His words, not mine. Like anyone would question if the shape was a gun at a beach.

We changed into our new gear in the little building provided by the park that ran Waconda Lake. The sun was shining and it was hot today. The recent heat wave left me sweating with my pants on, but oh so comfortable with just the swimsuit and cover up. I pulled my short hair back into a ponytail and emerged from the changing house with my duffel on my good shoulder and my towel over my arm, hiding my belly. There really was no need to do that, but it was almost a reflex now, like I was trying to hide the evidence that no one could even see yet.

"A yellow polka dot bikini?" Sam raised an eyebrow and grinned as I joined them at the car. Apparently the cover up was more sheer than I thought. The guys had changed too, but were still wearing thin white undershirts; Dean a tee shirt and Sam a tank top.

Tossing my duffel in the open door, I nodded and smiled. "You bet. I love bright colors."

"You're makin' me like 'em too." Dean said, looking me up and down. I rolled my eyes and Sam smacked his arm. "What? It's just a compliment."

"Sure it is." Sam said, with a hint of irritation in his voice. Then, turning to me, he said, "I'll get the cooler if you can carry the towels."

"Sure." I took his towel and waited for him to get the cooler from the car. Dean had a gear duffel slung over his shoulder. "What's with the armory, Winchester?" I asked, the question seeming a little odd as I said it. In any other situation, it would have been totally normal to see one of them toting around a bag stuffed with guns and knives. But at the beach?

"Can't be too careful. Might be demons prowling around." Dean said quietly as a screaming child, dressed in a purple swim suit, ran past our car with her mother following briskly behind her begging the child to slow down and be quiet. There were plenty of cars in the parking lot; we'd parked in a far corner away from most of the cars, but the spaces were filling up quick. Lots of minivans, some classic cars, a few muscle cars, and a couple beaters littered the lot.

"Here? Really?" I asked, seeing the amusement on his face as he watched the kid run from her mother.

"Like I said, can't be too careful. There's other stuff in here too. Sunblock, cell phone, salt shells, granola bar…" Dean reached into the bag and pulled out a small black case. "Got you some sunglasses."

"Bought or stole?" I asked, taking the case. Inside were an expensive looking pair of aviators; my favorite kind. _Definitely stolen._ I thought.

"I'll let you mull that over for a while." He said, putting on a pair of his own. "Hey, don't leave those off for too long. I don't want anyone to recognize you and call the fuzz."

"Right. Murderer on the loose." I grumbled, putting the glasses on and enjoying them just a little less after his last comment.

Once Sam wrestled the cooler free from the back seat, we walked down a little sand path and claimed our piece of beach away from the water and most of the yelling, splashing children. There was even a big, leafy tree providing some shade. The beach wasn't as crowded as I'd anticipated. It was long and somewhat narrow, letting people spread out along its entire length. There was room to breathe here; we had at least twenty square feet of sand to ourselves.

"I'll be here if you need me." Dean said as he sprawled out on his towel in the shade.

"No people-watching?" I asked, taunting him as I spread my towel out beside him.

"Maybe later. For now, sleep. Junior woke me up early today." He said, resting his head on his hands. "Now run along and play, kids."

I rolled my eyes and snorted a laugh. After a few seconds of digging through the gear bag, I noticed something was missing. "Hey, did we bring sunblock?" I asked, dreading the inevitable burn I'd get if I didn't use the stuff. Among all my cousins, I was famous for being the one who always got burnt even if I wore sunscreen and long sleeves.

"Yeah, here." Sam handed me a tube of what looked to be a brand new bottle of forty SPF sunscreen. I took off my cover up and started applying it as Sam set his towel out and put the cooler in the shade, close to Dean so no one would bother it. "Need any help with that?" Sam asked.

Thankfully the heat of the day had already made my cheeks red. Surely he wouldn't notice the extra few shades… "Uh, if you could get my back, I'd appreciate it."

"No problem." Sam seemed a little too eager, smiling widely as I handed him the bottle. A tiny shiver of pleasure shot down my spine as his hands touched my shoulders, then my back, all the way down to my bikini bottoms. He took his time and it was torture. I couldn't stop blushing and it was all I could do to not sigh or moan. My attraction for him was growing stronger every day and my body let me know every time I saw him. Or maybe it was just the hormones… Either way, I had it bad for the man with puppy dog eyes and a killer instinct.

"Here." Sam said, probably for the second or third time from the amused look on his face. I quickly took the tube and thanked him, avoiding eye contact. There was no way he was into me too. I shouldn't let my feelings show. The last thing we needed at the bunker was a cloud of awkwardness hovering over us.

"Did you want some?" I asked after I'd finished covering every inch of my exposed skin. _Don't say it, Ali, don't say-_ "I could do your back too, if you want." Damn hormones.

"I got some. And I don't plan on showing my back, but I appreciate the offer." Sam said with tense smile.

 _Of course. That's why they're wearing shirts. People always ask about scars._ I kicked myself for bringing up the sore topic once again. I knew they didn't like strangers seeing their scars. Anyone with any medical training would know that the puckered ridge on Sam's spine should have killed him. And the handprint on Dean's shoulder wasn't explainable to the general public. However, some of their scars, particularly ones that they'd made since I'd been around, were perfectly fine to show. The white line on Sam's arm was from when he went through a window and got a shard of glass lodged in his arm wouldn't attract too much attention. I sewed it shut on the library table. And the little slice through Dean's eyebrow was from when Francesca drugged and beat the three of them with the intent of killing them slowly as I watched, helpless in my own head. I was still amazed that I was able to stop her from taking them from me that terrible day.

I had scars of my own. The thought of covering them up hadn't occurred to me before I chose this bathing suit. I was actually kind of proud of all my scars. Maybe that's why I hadn't thought to keep them a secret. I'd survived a wendigo attack; I had four tight ridges on my shoulder to prove it. I'd been shot at; I had a bullet graze from a run-in with a witch and a bullet wound from where Dean shot me to take down Francesca. My feet were a crisscross of slices and pale, puckered lines from the time I ran fifteen miles barefoot, in a mind-numbing panic, with Francesca breathing threats into my brain. My hands and forearms had barely detectable chemical burns on them from my early days at the bunker, when I'd been in a dark state of mind. However, of all my scars, I was most proud of my stretch marks. They were a gentle reminder of the happier times in my life. Of my husband and son, now lost to me. The pale lines were barely perceptible along my hips and stomach. Even I had to look to find them.

I hoped that if anything, people would ask me about my tattoos and not my scars.

"Hey, everything okay?" Sam asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I shook my head and forced a smile. "Uh, yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Tightening my ponytail, I breathed deep the scent of lake water and sunscreen. I started walking toward the water line, hoping to cool off before my skin got too much sun. I also wanted to get this damn blush off my face. Screaming kids, I could handle. Letting my secret crush see my face get so red? The thought brought even more blood to my cheeks.

As soon as my toes hit the water line, I smiled. It'd been ages since I'd gone swimming. My toes dug into the wet sand, savoring the motion of the waves against my ankles and the grains against my soles. I closed my eyes and took a deep, long breath.

Only to have that breath squeal out in surprise as Sam came crashing down the beach and into the water, splashing me as he went under a few feet from the shore. He came up grinning like a fool, his tank top now nearly transparent. Luckily, it still hid the conversation starters. I wiped the water from my face before smiling back at him. "Ass." I laughed, keeping my voice low so I wouldn't poison the minds of the children around us.

"Princess." Sam sent me an expectant smile and I charged him. I hated that nickname and he knew it. Before I could get to him, he dove and swam far out into the lake, almost to the edge of the swimming area, where the water was over six feet deep. Determined, I swam after him. We must've played water-tag for at least an hour, laughing and splashing and swimming back and forth along the beach in the deep end, where no screaming kids could get in our way.

"Okay, okay." I panted after he swam just out of my reach yet again. "I'm getting tired. Breaktime?"

"Sure." He replied, sounded almost as winded as I felt. We were still in the deep end, about fifty yards from the shore. Together, we started to swim back.

A small twinge in my stomach made me pause mid-stroke. I stopped, treading the deep water as Sam continued on, and gently pressed one of my hands to my belly. I hadn't felt that kind of twinge in a long time. It felt like a strong menstrual cramp.

Then the cramp came back and didn't stop. I gasped and forced myself to swim, painfully slowly, to a point in the water where I could stand and still breathe. I let my toes rest on the sandy lakebed and closed my eyes, groaning softly as the cramp cinched down on my insides. Geez this hurt. More than my normal cramps. Soon both my arms were wrapped around my midsection and I was trudging my way back to shore. The sunglasses I was supposed to wear were set on top of my head so I could see where I was stepping in the water. If I lost my footing, I wasn't sure if I could recover it until this cramp stopped. And I had no idea when it would let up.

The waves were down to my shoulders when Sam finally returned. I looked up at him and instantly saw his smile fade. "What's happening?" He asked, coming to stand beside me. He rested his arm around my shoulders, stabilizing me with his other hand as I swayed with the waves.

"Stomach problems suck." I mumbled, frowning.

"Your belly acting up again?" He asked. I nodded. "Want a piggy back ride? I'll take you back to your towel."

The little flips my stomach performed at his offer did nothing to ease the cramping. I just nodded and rested my arms over his shoulders, letting him take hold of my legs. He held me well above the water and his body heat actually took the edge off the pain that the cruel bundle of muscle was causing. I rested my head on the back of his and closed my eyes, enjoying the small relief that his rhythmic movements and warmth were bringing. We were back at our towels too soon. I slid off of Sam and staggered to my towel, laying on my side and facing Dean, who was asleep and snoring contentedly.

"Sam?" I called softly over Dean to where Sam was sitting, digging through the cooler. "Don't tell Dean about that, please."

"Why… why would I not tell Dean?" Sam asked quietly, handing me a bottle of water over his sleeping sibling.

"I don't want him to fail me unfairly because he thinks I'm sick." I said slowly, rolling the bottle between my hands.

"Are you sick?"

"No. It's just a stomach thing." _My little stomach bug_. I thought with a small smile on my lips.

"I still don't see why you don't want Dean to know."

"He won't let me go with you guys if he thinks I can't handle myself. Any little excuse and I'm out." I said, making sure Dean's eyes were closed under his sunglasses. "I don't want to be stuffed in that bunker for weeks on end."

"You think he'd do that?" Sam asked.

"Yes. He's told me as much." I said.

Sam looked down at the sand for a few seconds. "Fine. But if something serious happens, I'm telling him. I won't cover up anything important."

"Thanks, Sam." I said, relief clear in my voice.

"Drink your water. You shouldn't let yourself get dehydrated in your condition." Sam said casually, taking a sip of his own bottle of water.

"My condition?" I asked, cautiously suspicious. The cramping had let up tremendously since Sam's body heat loosened it and now, it was almost gone. Surely he meant the supposed stomach problem and not… Did Sam know?

"Yeah, you know. The stomach thing. You need to keep drinking fluids. It'd be bad if you got really dehydrated; could screw things up in there." He said, scanning the beach as we talked. That was just like him, always keeping a lookout. Even on our day off. "I wouldn't want you to lose it."

I felt the blood rush _from_ my face this time. How did he know? I thought only Cas and I knew. Sam must've put the puzzle pieces together already, even faster than Dean was trying to. The puking, the nausea, the sudden change in tastes, the changes in my behavior, my moodiness- Sam had figured it out. He knew I was pregnant. And he didn't want me to lose the baby. I stared at him as he continued to scan the beach. He hadn't treated me any differently from before. No coddling, no excuses. He hadn't told Dean. He hadn't even told me that he knew. How could he just bring up the baby so casually in conversation? Had I been so caught up in feeling guilty about keeping my little champ a secret from them that they figured it out without me knowing?

"If you lost it, I might lose it too. Dean would be pissed." Sam said, just as casually as before. "He'd make me do the laundry this week for sure."

Laundry?

Sam didn't know. He was talking about me losing my lunch. Of course. I was relieved, but a strong pang of disappointment and guilt struck me just as strongly. _Stick to the plan, Ali. Stick to the plan._

Did the plan involve falling for Sam?

No.

Did it involve telling them about the life under my heart?

No.

As long as he and I didn't get too attached, the plan wouldn't change. And to avoid changing the plan, I resolved to not get too attached.

I snoozed on the beach, in the shade, for about an hour while Sam read a book. Dean, of course, was still snoring next to us. Even with the emotional turmoil I'd put myself through earlier, today was turning out to be pretty amazing. I missed the outdoors.

"I'm gonna walk the beach, Sam." I said, standing and stretching. Sand clung to me where it had dried in place. I brushed it off halfheartedly, knowing I'd probably get more on me anyway.

"Want me to walk with you?" He asked, lowering his book.

"No, you can keep reading. I'm just gonna go to the end and come back. No swimming this time."

"Shout if you need me. You know where we'll be." Sam said, returning his nose to the book. I set out down the beach, sunglasses back in place, and sighed as the sun's rays lit up my skin. The feeling was one of my favorites, no matter how many times I got burned.

And believe me, I used to get burned a lot. If I were a moth, I wouldn't have made it this long. It was a love-burn relationship, I supposed.

I walked slowly, breathing in the algae scented air, feeling the hot sand push up between my toes with each step, loving the warm breeze that brushed my skin. There were more people down at this end of the beach. I was only a few hundred yards away from the guys- well within shouting distance- but the area per capita here was greatly decreased. Kids ran between sunbathers who scorned them when sand flew into their faces. Teens played beach volleyball on a miniature court set up amongst the many towels littering the beach. Parents with small children waded along the edge of the lazy waves while people my age swam further into the lake. I saw a few blonds and redheads playing chicken atop darker haired, grinning young men in chest deep water. There was just so much to take in. I could see why Dean liked people-watching so much.

"Do you have sunburn?" Amongst the dull roar of screaming children, yelling parents, giggling teens, and loud music from the volleyball court, this voice seemed very clear. Almost like…

It was right behind me.

I turned quickly, looking for the source. A dark haired ten-year-old ran right in front of me, accidentally kicking hot sand on my legs. The distraction seemed to allow enough time for the voice to speak again. "Or are you always this hot?"

I looked up to see a guy- a few years my junior, fairly muscular, red hair, freckles, dashing smile, red swim trunks, shirtless- standing in front of me with two of his buddies, similarly built, but with brown hair and the cheapest looking blond highlights I'd ever seen. The redhead was the one who'd spoken, I was pretty sure. "What?"

"Just admiring the view, beautiful." The redhead said, stepping forward. "You walkin' all alone?"

 _Who would ask something like that? Creep_. "Well, yeah, for now. My friends are back towards the middle over there." I said, pointing behind them towards the tree we made camp under. "I was just enjoying the sunshine. Taking everything in."

"It's a lot, I know." The guy said. Frowning, I realized that he was trying to subtly flex.

 _Seriously?_ I almost rolled my eyes. "I think I'm actually gonna head back now. It's a little crowded over this way. Bye." I walked around the guys and started powerwalking back towards the tree.

"What's the rush, gorgeous? You come on like a sunburn- slow and hot. Let's take our time here." The guy said as he caught up with me.

"Look, I'm not interested, okay? Leave me alone." I said loudly enough for the people around me to hear, just in case the redhead made a move that wasn't kosher.

"Come on, baby. Tell me your name. I'm just tryin' to get to know you better." He jogged out in front of me and stood in my way, forcing me to stop. His buddies stayed behind me, grinning.

I felt like a caged animal. Like prey.

"Move." I asked nicely. "Please. My friends will be wondering where I am."

"What's your name, kitten?"

"No. Move." I said again, more firmly this time.

"No. That's a nice name. Think I'll call you Princess."

"Only my friend can call me that and get away with it, dude. Move or I'll call them over."

"Oh, I'm so scared. Don't call more girls in bikinis over here; whatever will we do, boys?" The redhead laughed, high-fiving his friends on either side of my head. I glanced over his shoulder- he was my height- and tried to see the tree, tried to see if Sam and Dean were still there. Maybe I had wandered too far for them to hear me if I shouted… There were a lot of people here making noise… I couldn't see if they were under the tree in the distance.

While the guys around me were distracted with the stupid comment, I ducked to the side and started running for the tree. The hot sand on the upper part of the beach burned my feet; no one had stepped there in a while. There were fewer sunbathers there and more sticks that scratched my feet.

One of the brown haired lackeys cut me off as the other two caught up. He grinned, an evil, malicious smile, and spread his arms out like he would catch me if I tried to run past him. I stopped and shouted, "Sam!" I still couldn't see where they were and my shout faded into the roar of the crowd. There was no way either of them could have heard me.

"We like the chase, don't we boys?" The redhead grinned, stepping closer to me as I whipped around to see him.

I backed up but then remembered the brown haired guy and stopped. "Stay away from me or I'll scream." I said, my voice shaking somewhat. Feeling like a caged animal wasn't a new sensation to me; being possessed was very similar. Being cornered brought out a more primitive, instinctive side in most people, and in me, it brought out a violent and poorly controlled desperation.

"No you won't. They never do. These folks will just think we're playing. We are just crazy kids, after all. Boys will be boys." The redhead took another step closer and I clenched my fists. It was true that I had no intention of screaming. I would take all three of them out before I admitted to Dean that I was being harassed on a beach by townies.

"Get back." I growled as a last warning, raising my arms to protect myself if need be.

"Hey, is there a problem here?" A familiar voice called from a few yards away. Sam came jogging up and stopped beside me. My fists relaxed and my chest, which I hadn't realized was clenched so tight, loosened at the sight of him. Backup at last. He'd actually heard me.

"No, we were just talkin', right Princess?" The redhead lost his smile but didn't step back. Sam had at least six inches on the guy, so I was surprised that none of the guys backed off.

"Princess?" Sam asked, looking to me for answers.

"I was trying to get back but then I met these three." I said with a sneer.

"Yeah, we were just flirtin', ya know. Goin' back and forth." The redhead shrugged.

This time Sam looked at me, confused and unconvinced. I shook my head and crossed my arms. "They threatened me."

"You threatened her?" Sam asked, a little more anger in his tone than I was expecting. Looking him up and down, I noticed his face was flushed. Sunburn? But his shoulders, around the straps of his tank top, were fine. He had been sitting in the shade after all.

"No way. We were just havin' fun, right, kitten?"

"Stop calling me that." I growled. "Let's go, Sam." Turning to leave, Sam and I walked maybe ten feet before the redhead ran in front of us and stopped us yet again. His buddies flanked him and I felt a protective arm wrap around my back and pull me closer.

"So you're just gonna leave with this loser?" Redhead asked, his arms crossed. "Who wears a shirt at the beach, anyway? Fat kids with something to hide, am I right?" His buddies agreed.

"If you don't move, I'll move you." Sam said, his voice strong and low. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Like you could hurt me. See this?" The redhead flexed, showing fairly well developed biceps and pecs. I wasn't impressed. Sam wasn't either by the way the bitchface settled in place. "This is what a real man is made of." His buddies added in their agreements, flexing as well.

"A real man doesn't threaten women." Sam said.

"Oh, did we step on your toes, pretty boy? Did we take your girl from you?" One of the brown haired guys asked.

"She's not mine. She doesn't belong to anyone but herself." Sam said. "And she never will."

"Why so protective of that piece of ass? She your sister? Your little cuz?" Redhead asked. "All she wants to do is spend time with us, right, Princess?"

I stepped up to the redhead and gave him my sweetest smile before whispering in his ear. "Don't call me Princess." He didn't even have time to react as I slapped him across the face.

I'd slapped a few people in my lifetime. A few rude boys at my high school who used to bully me, some of my male cousins, playfully, when they made a sexist comment, Sam when he was hysterical after Dean had been cursed, and Dean when he told us how he risked his life to save me. This slap in particular, as it connected with the redhead's freckled face, was oh so satisfying. Not only that, but it sent the guy to the ground; I'd been building more muscle than I thought. A smirk crossed my face as I watched him cover the developing red handprint with his own palm. He looked up at me with anger and offense in his eyes. I leaned down and flipped him off with my sweetest smile.

"Ali…" Sam said, his tone half amused and half concerned. I stood up straight and went back to stand next to the tall hunter, my arms crossed.

"Bitch." The redhead muttered as he stood up, still cradling his cheek. His friends frowned as they saw the outlines of fingers on his exposed skin. "You'll pay for this."

"No. She won't." Sam said simply. He put his arm around my shoulders and started to steer me away from the rude assholes. I went willingly, relishing in the comfort and safety that Sam's arm seemed to radiate.

We walked for a few more yards, and I was about to thank Sam for stepping in, but then I felt Sam's arm leave my shoulders. He stopped and I heard a gasp. As I turned around, I saw why.

The redhead's hand was inches from my arm, his forearm encased in one of Sam's massive hands. Sam was giving him the look that was usually reserved for things that tried to hurt Dean. I'd never seen it used for anything else before now. Secretly, I was honored to be added to the same list as his beloved brother.

"Walk away." Sam growled. I saw that his knuckles were white. The brown haired goons looked on, seeming to be slightly taken aback by my friend's actions.

"Or what, pretty boy? You can't just take a piece of meat away from a hungry dog." The redhead said, glancing at me with greedy eyes.

Sam's face twisted in anger and I could see his arm flex as his fingers tightened down on my man's arm. Slowly, the redhead lost his ability to hide the pain. He groaned and tried in vain to remove the hand. "Call her a piece of meat ever again, and I'll take every one of those pearly whites out for you." Sam said quietly so as not to alarm the elderly woman reading a book just a few feet away.

"Let go, asshat." The redhead gasped. Sam released his arm and the man immediately took it back, cradling it. "Are you just gonna stand there?" He asked his friends, looking at them in betrayal. The brown haired guys shared a nervous glance before steeling themselves for a fight. I saw Sam tense up, but I pushed him back as the goons approached. He relaxed and stepped back, watching me move in. I'd have to thank him later for not making me feel defenseless.

A swift kick to the jewels and a strong palm to the throat left both goons splayed out on the sand, their 'fearless' leader holding his slowly bruising forearm against his chest and staring at us with fearful eyes.

I smirked and addressed the embodiment of sexism. "Don't look so surprised, Princess."

Sam and I left the trio and headed back to the shade tree at our leisure. I thanked him for stepping in and then stepping aside.

"Don't worry about it. I know you can handle yourself one on one. Three on one is difficult even for me." Sam said as we passed a couple making out on their beach blanket in the middle of the crowd.

"How did you even hear me? I mean, I was so far away when I shouted for you." I said, still marveling at how things turned out.

"I was watching you. Well, kinda. Checking in, I guess, every minute or so. Then I heard something that sounded like you and I couldn't see you anymore. It only took me a few seconds to find you after I got closer, but it freaked me out a little. I mean, the last time I couldn't find you, you got possessed…" He trailed off, realizing that he may have brought up bad memories.

"Yeah. That was rough." I said, recalling my kidnapping. It was a shifter with Sam's face who took me, cut my tattoo, and allowed the demon Francesca to invade my body. The memory gave me an involuntary shiver.

"You can handle yourself now. I just wanted to make sure…" Sam trailed off again, looking down at the sand as we walked.

"Thanks for having my back, Sam. I appreciate it." I smiled up at him. "Sorry to ruin your day at the beach."

Sam snorted. "The only thing that could ruin today would be to lose track of you or Dean. And I don't think that's-" We stopped short as both of us looked to our shady spot and noticed a gross lack of Dean.

"Was he there when you left?" I asked, suddenly worried. He'd been asleep most of the day.

"Yeah, he was sleeping." Sam said, looking around. He did a full three-sixty before we continued on to the site. Sam and I were just about to try and call him when he came up behind us.

"Welcome back." Dean said, holding an ice cream cone.

Sam whipped around and I saw his shoulders lose their tension as he saw his brother. "Where were you?"

"There's a hot chick at the ice cream stand we passed on the walk in." He smiled. "Got her number and this little piece of heaven."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Our day at the beach was everything I hoped it would be. Granted, there were some rough parts, but overall, it was just the break we needed. Sam finally finished the book he'd been reading for the past few weeks. Dean got to people-watch and actually got at least three phone numbers from various sun-kissed townies. I got my usual sunburn, of course, but I also got to unwind and step back from the intense training of the past weeks. We were all smiling as we packed up after a few hours at the beach and headed back to the Impala.

"I have another surprise for you two." Dean said as he shut the trunk and joined us in the car.

"Is it a case?" Sam guessed, his voice curious.

"Nope." Dean said, pulling onto the road.

"Are we going to the… oh what's it called… Pack day? Are we going to the hunter pack day at Ellen and Jo's place?" I asked, remembering the conversation I'd overheard days ago.

"Nah, she hasn't set a date for that yet as far as I know." Dean said, pulling onto the highway.

"Uh, Dean, the bunker is the other way." Sam said, pointing behind us.

"I know."

"So, where are we going?" Sam asked. "I only packed for one night. If this is a case-"

"It's not a case, Sammy." Dean smiled knowingly. "No need to get your panties in a bunch."

"Then what are doing? Where are we going?" I asked from the backseat.

Dean looked at me in the rear view mirror.

"We're going camping."

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to make my day and leave your thoughts below!**


	11. Up a Creek, So to Speak

**A/N: Vivi here! Welcome back! I'm posting this Friday night to make up for the Sunday posting last week. Hope you enjoy it! As always, please leave a review- constructive criticism or things you liked are very much appreciated. Your opinions matter to me! Here's "Up a Creek, So to Speak".**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Then what are doing? Where are we going?" I asked from the backseat._

 _Dean looked at me in the rearview mirror._

 _"We're going camping."_

* * *

We'd been in the car for nearly five hours, driving to wherever Dean had decided to go camping. He wouldn't tell us exactly where, and honestly I wasn't that curious. I was just glad that we were taking a break from testing.

"I can't believe we're actually going camping." Sam said for the tenth time since we left the beach. He still had an excited smile. "I've been trying to get you to go for years."

"I know." Dean said as he pulled onto a dirt side road. We'd been driving beside a vast forest for at least the last cassette tape. Dean and Sam had been singing along, but I didn't know all the words yet. It was nice to see them having fun like this. It wasn't often that I got to see the more fun-loving side of their relationship.

"Did you actually bring stuff? Like tents, sleeping bags, food?" Sam asked, eagerly looking out the side window as we passed massive trees and undergrowth as far as the eye could see.

"Yup."

"Hey, there isn't a job out here, is there? We're not hunting, right? Just camping?"

"As far as I know. Haven't been any weird sightings or reports up this way in the past fifty years, so I'd be surprised to find something our speed."

Sam's smile grew and he looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Ali, this is going to be awesome. We used to go camping every year with Dad for a long weekend, when he had time between jobs. Just the three of us."

"Sounds pretty nice. I like camping." I said, looking out the window into the deep forest that we'd driven so long to get to. For the past hour, I hadn't seen any signs of humanity besides the road and signs, and a few passing cars. Deep woods camping was not my favorite, but hey. I'd have Sam and Dean with me. What could go wrong?

The Impala slowed to a stop on the side of the dirt road. The strong smell of pine and decaying leaves met my nose and I smiled. This was going to be so much fun. Two whole days of worry free down time were just what I needed after those last few tests.

Dean popped the trunk. Sam and I met him there and helped him unload the bags. From the trunk, Dean produced two hiking bags and all three of our duffels. I'd packed my own bag; it was still full of clothes from our impromptu trip to the beach. But I had no idea what was in the hiking bags. I hadn't seen them before now. "Hiking bags have everything you'll need. Here's your duffel." Dean said, handing me my duffel and a hiking bag. "Might want to set those off the road for the time being."

"Okay." I said, heading for the forest to set my bags down. They were a little heavy, but I expected Dean and Sam to take the hiking bags as soon as we got going. I'd gladly carry three duffels if it meant not having to lug that hiking bag around. Especially since there was no trailhead in sight.

"Here's your stuff." I heard Dean give Sam his bags as well and then shut the trunk. I turned around in time to see Dean get into the driver's seat and Sam set his things on the ground behind the Impala. The distinct sound of doors locking hit my ears and I jogged back to the car in alarm.

"Dude. What're you doing?" Sam asked, already at the driver's side window.

Dean's voice was little more than a hiss but I heard it loud and clear as I jogged to the passenger side window. "I'm tired of you stalling. Just don't ruin the test." He continued speaking in a louder voice after that. "This is just a training exercise for you and Li. Survive three days out here alone. Easy, right? You have everything you need. Except this." Dean reached under his seat and produced a small cardboard box. "Fire starter's in here." For some reason, he had a shit eating grin as he handed the box to Sam.

Sam frowned and opened the box. My curiosity soared when he saw the contents and immediately shut it, blushing profusely. "Dean, I do not need your help. Seriously, this isn't funny."

"Dean, what's going on?" I asked from the passenger window.

"Just a training exercise, Li." Dean said, smiling.

"Sam's helping me?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. Hey, listen, I'll pick you up in three days. Just survive that long and meet me back here. Have fun you two." Dean smiled and waved as he pulled away, leaving us in a spray of loose dirt and exhaust.

I stood, dumbfounded, and watched the Impala drive out of sight around a bend.

"You better not be going to a bar!" Sam shouted, seething frustration and disappointment. He glared at the car until it was gone. "I can't believe he's doing this." Sam said, shaking his head and lightly kicking at a rock.

"What's he doing?" I asked, bewildered.

"Well, for starters, this isn't just a camping trip. It's a test. Your last test." He went to pick up his bags and I followed him. "Dad used to send Dean and I camping when we didn't have enough money for a motel and the job was too dangerous for us to go with him. Y'know, when we were kids. A couple times, he sent us out and actually hunted us to see how well we'd hold up if something was out there looking for blood. If I know Dean, he'll be back the tomorrow, in the evening. We'll be ready for him." Sam said. "He'll hunt us until the third evening. We pass if we make it back to the meeting place before sundown."

"Sounds like something you Winchesters would do." I grumbled, swatting at a fly that was buzzing around my head. "Did you just ruin the test? I mean, now that I know it'll be Dean coming, I can prepare, right? Isn't that cheating?"

"I didn't ruin it." Sam said, scanning the forest around us. "He'll mimic a creature, but I didn't tell you which one. And I'm not allowed to help you survive. In fact, I'm supposed to be a civilian that you have to save." Sam and I went to stand next to my pile of stuff, next to the woods.

"So he told you he'd dump us in the middle of nowhere for three days?" I asked. "You knew this was coming?"

"Well, no." Sam frowned and swatted at a bug. "I honestly thought we were all camping. I didn't know what he had planned for the last test."

"Awesome." I grumbled. "So what now?"

"We start hiking. The farther in we get, the harder it'll be for Dean to find us. The more down time we'll have." Sam said, pulling his cell out and powering it down. "Turn off your phone. Let's go."

The weight of the hiking bag and my duffel wore on the scars that lined my shoulder, making them roll painfully over my collarbone every few steps. I pulled a shirt out of my duffel and wadded it up, placing it under the strap, but it only helped a little. We hiked through the tall trees and springy undergrowth for hours. I was so glad we'd changed out of our swimwear before getting in the Impala; hiking like this in a bikini, even under my everyday clothes, would've been miserable. Granted, my sunburn was painful as it rubbed on my clothes, but it could have been a lot worse. Sam had been very thorough with the sunscreen.

The first hour of our journey was mostly quiet. Every so often Sam would take a machete, pulled from his duffel, to the back of a tree to mark our way to the meeting point so we wouldn't get lost after three days in the woods. He explained to me that one should never mark the front of the tree if they were being followed. Just makes it easier for who or whatever is following to find them. Instead, mark the back of the tree if you need to find your way back. That way you're not lost but nothing can easily track you. The sound of metal on wood and the constant bird chatter were the only sounds to be heard for a long time.

Then, after the first hour of walking, Sam and I started talking and didn't stop.

We talked about the various times John, their father, had hunted them on camping trips like this. Once he mimicked a wendigo, another time he played a vampire. Then he led them to think he was a rougarou. Sam said he was young for the first trip, like ten. Dean nearly shot their father before they realized it was him. Neither boy was ready to trust their father for a month after they reunited the first time. I understood why.

We talked about my family, too. How my sister and I used to climb trees in our backyard and hide when our father came looking for us. I told him about the time we went to a family reunion out in the country and played a massive game of paintball with our cousins that left me polka-dotted with bruises and grinning like a fool when my team won. It was nice to get to talk to Sam without Dean interrupting all the time, adding details that Sam left out. Sometimes details needed to be left out.

It was a bittersweet moment when we arrived at a small riverbed that ran deep with crystal clear water. "Can we make camp somewhere near here?" I asked. "My shoulder is killing me." I wanted to keep talking with him, but the nagging pain was starting to become sharp and overwhelming.

"Sure. Sun will be going down in a couple hours anyway. We just need to find a relatively flat area for the tent." Sam said, scanning the trees once more. I shifted the weight of my pack and groaned. Undoubtedly my scars were bright red and swollen by now. "Over there looks promising."

We walked a couple hundred more yards to a little clearing in the trees. As Sam predicted, the ground was level. I immediately dumped my bags and sat in the dirt, massaging my shoulders.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked as he set his things down. He'd carried the same load, plus one gear duffel. And of course he was fine. Unfazed by the weight he'd carried for hours already.

"Yeah, it's just these scars get in the way." I said, feeling less than competent. "Hard to wear backpacks with them."

"I didn't bring any pain meds. Sorry." Sam said as he dug the tent out of his pack.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who went into the mine without you and Cas beside me and got attacked by an angry wendigo." I shrugged and stood to help him set up the tent. "It's my own fault."

"I shouldn't have let you go into the woods with us." Sam said, guilt lacing his tone. He dug the fabric of the small looking tent out of its protective sleeve and I helped him spread it out. "I put you in unnecessary danger and you paid the price for my mistake."

"You know I would've just followed you and Cas." I said matter-of-factly. "Really, you had no choice in the matter."

"Could've cuffed you to a chair." Sam said quietly to himself. I stopped short.

"Would you really have done that?" I asked.

"If I thought you'd charge into a mine with a wendigo running wild? Probably." Sam started threading the poles through the tent as I set up the tarp. "I thought you would listen to my orders."

"I have trouble taking orders." I said as I looped a rope around a tree to one side of the tent. "I saved Dean, didn't I?"

"You did. Don't get me wrong; I'm grateful for that. But still, you disobeyed a direct order and risked your own life." Sam finished with the tent and helped me loop the rope around another tree. "We could've lost both of you. Hunters don't normally put all their eggs in one basket, y'know?"

"You mean they don't normally risk their loved ones all at once?" I corrected.

"Yeah." We finished setting up the tarp and gathered some wood. "Alright. I think that's everything." Sam said, looking over our modest accommodations for the night.

I followed his eyes to the fire pit that we'd cleared of leaves and stacked the wood in, the tent that was pitched and decked out with our sleeping arrangements, and the tarp that hung over the tent on a rope between two trees, in case it started raining. "Yeah, looks good." I said.

"I'm gonna go wash off in that stream we passed earlier. You good to stay here alone?" Sam asked as he rooted through his pack for a change of clothes.

"I can't come?" I asked. My own smell made my nose wrinkle; cleaning up would feel so good right about now.

Sam looked back to me, surprised. "Uh, yeah. You can come. If you want."

"You aren't the only one who's worked up a stench, dude." I said, grabbing my duffel. I knew my bathing suit, towel, beach-safe soap, and most of my clothes were in it.

Sam threw his own duffel over his shoulder. "I want to get back before nightfall."

"I have no problem with that." We walked to the stream, only a few hundred yards away, in relative silence. He'd been so talkative while setting up the campsite. I wondered what changed.

The stream was just as pristine and inviting as I remembered it being when we walked by earlier. The water was perfectly clear, revealing little fish hovering just above the gray rocks on the bottom. Occasionally, a leaf would bump over the taller rocks that lined the riverbed. A big, blue-gray boulder was lodged off to one side of the stream bed, creating little whirlpools that flowed down the water for a few feet before spinning themselves out of existence. Tall trees- maple, elm, and the occasional willow- leaned far overhead, providing a comforting shade from the bright sun. It would set in maybe an hour, but for now, it was still wonderfully warm and welcoming.

We stopped just short of the pebble beach and I breathed deep, enjoying the scent and feel of the breeze that wafted along overtop of the water. When I opened my eyes, Sam was already in his swimming trunks and heading for the water. However, unlike at the lake beach, he wasn't wearing a thick white shirt. Instantly, my eyes went to the ugly, tapered scar in the center of his back. The one that had killed him.

"Sam." I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace or the singing birds.

"What's up?" He asked, stopping just short of the water and turning to face me.

"You've never told me about all your scars." I said, setting my duffel next to his. "You guys watched me make most of mine, but I have no idea where most of yours came from."

"You want a tour of my scars?" Sam asked, slightly amused at the thought. The hint of a grin played on his lips as I searched through my bag for my swim suit.

"Well when you say it that way I feel like a creep. I'll return the favor, if you want. If that makes it less weird." I said as I found my yellow polka dot swim suit, trying to look absorbed in the task so he wouldn't see my blush.

"Okay. Sounds like a fair trade." He said with a lighthearted shrug. "I'll let you change."

I smiled and waited until his back was turned to change into the bikini. Now that it was just he and I, the thing left me feeling a little exposed… and a little bloated, which had been happening more often recently. Not that anyone could tell. It was more of an internal feeling. A deep fullness. Kind of like the crazy heightened sex drive I'd been dealing with for the past few weeks. No one else could tell but man, did I feel it.

As I changed, my mind swam with anxiety over what I'd just requested. I was nervous about finally seeing all of Sam's scars and hearing the stories behind them. What if I couldn't take what I heard and wound up in tears? What if I heard something I could never forget?

I turned around after putting my clothes away and saw that Sam hadn't gotten in just yet. He was looking in the water, arms crossed. Probably lost in thought. Silently, I snuck up behind him and tried to follow his gaze. The water looked fine. Nothing weird or monster-y about it. He probably would've said something if it were dangerous…

With a running start, I hurdled past Sam and fell back into the cool stream, splashing him like he'd splashed me earlier.

That snapped him out of his thoughts and he jumped at the sensation of water hitting his face. A grin lit up his features as he joined me, diving just before he reached the place where I was treading water.

When he came up, the smile hadn't faded. "I guess I deserved that."

"Sweet revenge, my friend." I purred, moving to float on my back in a patch of sunlight. There was nothing to hide. Yet. I wasn't showing; there was no way for him to tell and I had no reason to be squeamish about my belly.

"Hey, did you bring soap?" Sam asked.

"Sure did. Same stuff I used after the beach. I almost didn't bring it. Help yourself; it's in my bag." I said, staring up at the trees that blocked much of the sky. Their slow, lazy motions were hypnotizing and I felt the tension in my shoulders release slowly.

"Thanks." He got the soap and returned to where I was nearly asleep and floating away. "Ali?"

"Hmm?" My eyes were closed. When did that happen?

Sam snorted a laugh. "Going somewhere?"

"The great blue beyond."

"I don't think so. If you float away and get lost Dean will fail you." Sam said. My eyes flew open and I swam back to the more shallow area where Sam stood with the soap.

"Let's try to avoid that if at all possible." I muttered, taking the soap.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the weird break. Please leave a review! If you guys don't like the story or where it's going, let me know. I can change stuff. I am the author after all. See you next time!**


	12. Two Steps Forward, One Big Step Back

**A/N: Vivi here! Y'all can thank BonanzaRocks for the timeliness of this chapter; super long and before next Saturday? I could handle that this week, since I already had this part written. This one's for you, BonanzaRocks!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _Sam snorted a laugh. "Going somewhere?"_

 _"The great blue beyond."_

 _"I don't think so. If you float away and get lost Dean will fail you." Sam said. My eyes flew open and I swam back to the more shallow area where Sam stood with the soap._

 _"Let's try to avoid that if at all possible." I muttered, taking the soap._

* * *

After I had enough to wash my hair, I handed the bar back to Sam. Rinsing the suds away, I noticed the burn scars on my hands. "I'll start the show-and-tell. These are from that bleach episode. Remember? You guys went out and-"

"I remember." Sam said flatly, frowning at the warped skin of my hands and forearms. "We left you with Cas after that. I'm glad those healed as well as they did. Bleach can do much worse… I'm actually kind of surprised it didn't. You were cleaning for hours before we came home."

"I think it was Francesca that kept my skin mostly intact. Even being as weak as she was back then, I think it was her that saved my hands." I said, looking over my wrists. Those were dark times. The demon told me gloves weren't necessary. Best to handle the bleach without them.

"I've got a burn scar too." Sam said, pointing to a small, dark circle on his arm. "I was a kid. Probably seven- something like that. Dad left us with a hunter's wife while he and the husband went to kill a ghoul. We were there for three days. Wife didn't like kids. She put out a cigarette on me after I supposedly talked back to her and Dean blew up. We went to a motel that night. We didn't tell the woman we were leaving. She called Dad and said we were gone but we'd already let Dad know what was had happened. He killed the ghoul the next day and cussed her out. We never saw them again."

"That's awful. Why would someone do that to a kid?" I gaped.

"There are monsters out there. Not all of them are supernatural. You know that." He said as he scrubbed at his face.

Once my futile anger subsided, I put my thumb in the air and wiggled the silver ring off of it for a moment. "I have a burn on my thumb from Dean's ring. Francesca had it on and burned herself with the holy water it made at the bar. That's why she threw it." I said. "Cas found it, I think, before she attacked you in the motel."

"I found it and gave it to Cas." Sam corrected. "The scar from that hip surgery would've been huge, but it was gone after Cas fixed me up."

I closed my eyes and tried not to picture the demon throwing Sam to a wall, him falling on that table, the sucking pop when his hip was forced out of place… A shiver ran down my spine. Why did I ask to talk about the scars? "Speaking of Cas." I said faintly, trying to change the subject before the hormones drove me to tears. I poked one foot out of the water for Sam to see. It was crisscrossed with white ridges. "These are from my meltdown and running fifteen miles."

"Barefoot." Sam rolled his eyes. "I couldn't believe how much blood there was when we found you."

"Isn't that when Dean finally figured out I still had a demon in me?" I asked, trying to rub the sweat and tree gunk from my arms.

"I think so. I think he suspected it for a while though. He kept telling me to be careful around you." Sam said.

"Smart man." I said softly.

"This is from when I got shot because Dean made a stupid comment about a guy holding a gun." Sam said, pointing to his left shoulder where a pale, jagged line had nagged at my curiosity for months now.

"So that's what that's from. We've both been shot on his account... Well, kinda. Dean shot me once. You know that; you weren't there though." I said, moving to scrub at my face and neck.

"He thought you were a demon. And he was still full of that date rape drug that Francesca pumped into us. I'm not surprised that he shot first." Sam said. "That doesn't make it right, but I'm not surprised."

"I'd have done the same thing. I don't blame him for it. He got the demon out again and that's all I care about."

"Bobby got the demon out. He locked it in that warded box while Dean tried to beat the door down to stop him. Hasn't anyone told you about that?" Sam asked.

"No, this is news to me. He didn't want Bobby to take the demon out?" I asked, incredulous at the new information. No one had bothered to tell me what happened from the time I passed out after taking control of my body with Francesca still inside, to when I woke up on the floor of my bedroom with Sam, Dean, and Bobby hovering over me, an empty adrenaline syringe in Sam's hand.

"There was a chance- a big chance- that you wouldn't make it through that ritual and Dean wasn't ready to take it yet. He wanted to find a safer way to get it out and keep it away, but Bobby didn't think there was another way. He gave Dean a couple days to search, but then… I don't know. I guess he'd had enough. He locked Dean out of the dungeon and took the demon out. Dean freaked; there're still dents in the door." Sam said.

"In the door to the dungeon? The steel reinforced solid wood door?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. He was pretty upset."

"Damn." I breathed. "How is Bobby still alive?"

"From what he told me, Dean saw you slumped over in the chair and lost his steam. He wasn't the same after that." Sam said, absentmindedly pushing suds away from him.

"I didn't know… I didn't know it was such a big deal. I just thought they pulled it out and put me in my bed when I didn't wake up right away." I looked down at the gray rocks beneath me and pushed one around with my foot. Why hadn't anyone told me? No wonder Dean was being so protective now.

"The past is the past for a reason, Ali." Sam said. "We learned from our mistakes."

"Right." I whispered.

I heard Sam wade to where I stood a few feet away from him. Through the chest deep water, I saw his feet stop nearly toe to toe with mine. I looked up at him and slowly wrapped my arms around him. He seemed surprised, but returned the gesture wholeheartedly. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

"Can we talk about this scar?" I asked, gliding my fingers lightly over the ridges I'd seen on his lower back a few times as he walked back from the shower room in the bunker. I desperately needed a change of subject. The hormones were acting up again, warring between destitution over the decision Dean had to make and the fact that Sam's skin was pressed to mine.

"Uh, sure." Sam gently detached himself from me and turned to show the ridges. He motioned with his hand, a kind of sweeping, ripping movement over the scar. "Werewolf. I was sixteen. Just a flesh wound."

"Wendigo. I was twenty five. Just a flesh wound." I said, running my fingers down the ridges on my shoulder.

"Vengeful spirit. Five years ago." Sam lifted his chin to show me a faint white line along the right side of his neck. "Guy was a barber. Had the old fashioned blades."

I laid back and floated for a few seconds, pointing to a dip in my thigh, just above my knee. "That's where Fisher shot me."

Sam paused, confusion coloring his face.

 _Oh shit_. I'd never told him about that. After the witch who cursed Dean shot me in a massive mob of demons that we were trying to exorcise, I'd hidden the injury from Sam and Cas and tiny Dean. No one but me remembered it. Oops.

"Fisher shot you?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"When was that?" Sam asked, his voice taking on a much more stern tone.

"When I surprised you and Cas in the woods." There hadn't been enough bullet proof vests to go around. Cas got shot in the chest saving me, but another bullet grazed my thigh.

"He- you got- what the hell, Ali? Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked, clearly upset.

"It wasn't that bad. You had more important things to deal with." I said, shrugging innocently.

"There is nothing more important than family, Ali. You should've let us patch you up. Fisher couldn't waited that long." Sam said.

"Sorry."

We finished washing in silence. I put the soap back in my bag and returned to the water, floating on my back for a few minutes. Thoughts of regret and the constant nagging in the back of my head to tell him about the baby were the only things I could focus on as I stared up at the leaves.

Eventually, I heard him get out of the water. It took me a minute, but I realized that the sound hadn't come from where I expected. The sloppy notes of water splashing and dripping didn't come from the pebble beach where our things were. It came from across the river. I sunk back into the water and looked around, concerned. Sam had lifted himself up onto the boulder and was watching me as I floated.

His eyes grew wide and blush colored his cheeks before he could stop it. I looked away, into the deep pool below me, feigning interest in the fish that still swam there. Tiny little gray fish to match the gray stones. Light bounced off of the creatures, though, in a way that made the water seem to sparkle. I guess they were actually kind of interesting.

"Why did you ask to see my scars, Ali?" Sam's voice broke my wonder and I looked back to him. The blush was gone.

"I wanted to know more about you. We don't get to really talk very often. It seemed like a good enough conversation starter." I shrugged and looked back to the fish.

"I guess…" Sam trailed off. It took him a few seconds to finally say what was really on his mind. "We haven't talked about _the_ scar yet." Sam said quietly, unable to meet my gaze.

"I didn't want to push you too far."

"It's okay." Sam said. "You've seen it before. I'm sure Dean has told you how I got it. What it caused."

"Yeah." I could hardly speak anymore. "You don't have to tell me again."

Sam snorted a humorless laugh. "I still get phantom pains sometimes. Mostly at night. Like my body knows what happened and that a demon sewed it back up." He threw a small pebble into the river at the base of the boulder and watched it tumble along the bottom.

"I still have phantom pains from my stretch marks." I said softly, floating on my back again, in a way that I could still see Sam. Once my belly broke the surface, the thin, barely visible white lines felt as obvious as lightning against a cloudy sky. "Those must be nothing compared to yours though."

Sam looked at them for a long time. "Different kind of pain."

He was right. His pain was probably electric, white hot, all-consuming. Mine was slow, achy, burning- the physical pain, at least. Whenever I got phantom pains, I was reminded of my little boy, lost before I was saved by Cas and taken to the bunker. Killed by Francesca.

"Kole was only 18 weeks along, right?" Sam asked, snapping me back to reality. I blinked a few tears from my eyes, surprised to find them there so quickly.

"Uh, yeah. He used to roll around in there and kick at my finger if I pushed against my belly." I said with a weak smile. "I miss him."

"It's hard to lose someone like that. We've lost a lot of friends to demons. I can't imagine how much worse it would be to lose a child." Sam said, tossing another pebble into the river. "Kinda makes me glad I never settled down."

This would be a logical time to tell him about the life I carried. Somewhat bittersweet, but timely. _Stick to the plan, Ali._ I told myself. _Don't get too attached, don't tell him about the baby, don't fall for him._

Well, two out of the three seemed to be on their way out. Somehow, I didn't have a problem with that at the moment. Further down the road I'd have to deal with my actions, but in this moment? Here, with Sam? This felt right.

We just stayed there, in the river, quietly enjoying each other's company and the peaceful forest around us. Time slipped away; when I came back from my thoughts, the sky was considerably different- much more colorful and a bit dimmer- and tree frogs were beginning to call.

"The sun is starting to set." I said, still floating on my back and looking up into the beautifully painted sky. Oranges and pinks and blues created a gorgeous interplay of tones that the clouds danced over.

"We should head back soon." Sam said as he jumped down from the rock and came over to where I was floating. "We need to get the fire started."

"And have dinner." I said, my stomach starting to growl. Nausea hit me hard but I swallowed it back and let legs sink into the cool water. I could barely touch the bottom here. "I'm ready to go. How about you?"

Sam's cheeks got a few shades darker as he stood easily in the water next to me. "I think I'll hang out here for a few more minutes."

"You're gonna make me walk back alone?" I asked, surprised and somewhat disappointed.

"I, uh… no. I just… can't get out right now." Sam said, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you stuck?" I asked, trying to see his feet through the rippling water. There was nothing but blurry shadows down there. The sun was setting fast and the trees already blocked most of the light.

"No."

"Need some more time to clean up?" I asked, confused. I thought we'd both finished washing pretty early on.

"No." He glanced down at me, his cheeks still red.

"Did you lose your trunks?" I smirked, trying to make a joke.

"Not quite." The blush deepened and he looked away. He must've ripped them getting off that boulder.

I giggled. "Want me to get you a towel?"

"Please?"

I swam to the edge and walked out over the bumpy stones, grabbing my towel first, then his. When my back was to him, I heard him follow me out. Towel in hand, I turned around to see him facing the stream, wiping the water from his hair. The back of the trunks looked damage free. I wondered where he'd ripped them.

"Here's your towel." I said, draping it over his shoulder.

"Thanks." He wiped his face dry as I went to stand in front of him. I didn't like to be out of sight in the woods if I could help it. Especially at dusk. Bobby had taught me about too many things that liked dusk.

That was when I looked Sam over and noticed that his trunks had a new shape to them. They were most definitely not ripped. My face quickly took on the hue his had been just moments ago.

Sam finished drying his face and hair before he noticed me; it was too late for me to escape this situation. His eyes widened and he froze momentarily before wrapping the towel loosely around his waist. "Uh, I… This is awkward." He stammered, shifting his weight nervously before retreating quickly to his duffel.

Seeing him so flustered was something I'd not experienced before. Normally he was so confident and easygoing- this was endearing, adorable even. It made me feel more comfortable to know I wasn't the only one who was flustered. "It's only awkward if you make it that way." I said softly as I followed him. He turned and our eyes met. "There's no one else around. No Bobby, no Dean, no Cas. No prying eyes. You don't have to be embarrassed."

 _Don't fall don't fall don't fall. Don't ruin the plan…_

Sam seemed taken aback by my words. "You're not… surprised." His face contorted in confusion and he looked me up and down. I pulled my towel tighter around my body; it was getting chilly. Something in the back of my mind craved the heat I'd felt for a brief time at the beach.

"No. I'm not." I said, going to my duffel for my shoes. _You're digging yourself a hole, girl…_

"Did you know?" Sam asked.

"Know what? That you have a crush on me?" I asked, grinning. _Maybe this won't be so bad for the plan… for me…_

"Uh, yeah."

"No." Although now that I think about it, there were hints. He and Dean taunting each other, their not-so-private talks, the way Sam was always looking out for me and helping me. It was pretty obvious in retrospect. Why hadn't I seen it before?

"Then why aren't you surprised?" Sam asked. I put my shoes on and shouldered my duffel strap. The strap rubbed over my already raw claw marks, so I moved it to the other shoulder, juggling my towel and the heavy bag awkwardly.

"Because I feel the same way." I said, shrugging, once my bag was in place. _Well, it's out there. No denying it now._ "I just didn't want to seem… I don't know. Like a needy, desperate, stereotypical female protagonist. I didn't want to seem weak, I guess, by admitting that you make me feel… safe, wanted, weak in the knees." The blush returned to my cheeks and I bit my tongue for saying so much so quickly. Why was this all pouring out now? _The plan…_

"Really?" Sam asked, a smile forming on his face. "I mean, I'm glad to hear it, but you never spoke up about it, even when we were alone."

"Like I said. Didn't want to seem needy. I've been training so hard and one wrong move could keep me from hunting with you guys. The last thing I want is to be banished to bunker nerd status." I shivered. "If Dean knew about my crush, he'd probably grade me even harder and fail me at the drop of a hat." _I can see it now: gotta protect Sammy's girl, my precious little Li-Li._

Sam grabbed his bag. "I don't think he'd have a problem with it. Let's go get that fire going. The temp's gonna drop soon."

We started walking back to our campsite. "Why don't you think he'd freak?"

"He's pretty good at picking up on things like this. He knew almost right away when I started falling for you. For putting up such a stoic front, he's actually really tuned in to the emotions of others." Sam said. I noticed he was scanning the forest, as if he was looking for something. Probably Dean.

"Y'know, I thought it was just luck that he was able to guess moods when I first moved into the bunker, but you're right. Now that I think about it, he was spot on about almost every… episode I had. When I was still in that 'let me die already' phase, when I first moved in, he was great. I mean, you were better at talking me down from hysterics, but he kept me level when you weren't around." I said, following Sam's scanning pattern as we walked.

"He keeps trying to get me to tell you about my feelings." Sam said with a snort. "He's tired of me stalling. He actually told me that right before he took off earlier."

"Seriously?" I chuckled, recalling the first part of their conversation that I'd unintentionally eavesdropped on. "Why couldn't you just tell me on your own? You scared, hunter boy?"

Sam smiled and shook his head. "I didn't want to make you think you had to be with me to stay with us. I didn't want to pressure you into something you didn't want to do."

"I appreciate that." I said. "Still, it would've been nice to know. I'm not that easily pressured. I know what I want." _Do I though?_

We arrived at the campsite and I tossed my duffel into the tent. The sun was already well below the tree line, giving us just enough light to make a fire. "I'll start the fire if you want to change first." I offered.

"No, go ahead." Sam said as he added his duffel to the tent.

"Suit yourself." I shrugged, entering the tent and zipping it shut. Soon I was fully dressed in a baggy tee and an equally as baggy gray sweatshirt that one of the guys had outgrown, a pair of plaid sweatpants that I got on sale at a thrift shop, and fresh underclothes. My hair, still dripping wet, hung in tendrils all around my face as I left it to dry.

Just before my hand reached the tent zipper, I noticed a small brown object peeking out from inside Sam's sleeping bag. Curious, I grabbed the thing and brought it out quietly. It was the cardboard box Dean gave to Sam before he left us here earlier today. The one that Sam opened and slammed shut with blush on his cheeks.

It wouldn't hurt to just see what was inside. Sam would never know.

The fire starter that Dean said was inside was missing; I imagined Sam removed it before hiding the box. There was also a can opener, which we would need to make dinner. I slipped the metal contraption into my pocket. Lots of newspaper for kindling... Why did Sam blush at this? It looked like a regular old fire kit.

I riffled through the paper until I felt something hard at the bottom. My hand came back with a small tin of breath mints. "Mints?" I mouthed to myself. Those seemed out of place in a fire kit…

Something shiny caught my eye in the bottom as I replaced the mints among the newspaper shreds. The thing was flat and square. In the dim lighting of the tent, I had to hold it up and squint hard to figure out what it was.

"Oh my goodness." I hissed, trying to hold back the bubbling laughter I felt brewing in my stomach. The bottom of the box was full of condoms. I even found a small bottle of lube in there. No wonder Sam blushed when Dean handed this to him. I had no doubt that the condoms were on top before Sam hid the box. Silent laughter shook my chest and I had to keep from crying, I was laughing so hard. Dean really was trying to get us together. I didn't know if that was cute or creepy, but I got a good laugh out of it either way.

I took a minute to compose myself before returning the box and its contents to Sam's sleeping bag. "Your turn." I said as I stepped out and saw that Sam had a small fire going. He got in the tent and I set to work preparing dinner. I set the open cans in the embers next to the fire to heat up before finding a clean place on the ground to sit and quell the slight shivering that hadn't stopped since I left the water.

Sam returned in no time and took a seat next to me by the fire.

"How did you-" He asked, staring at the open cans. The expression that slowly spread over his face was a mix of horror, panic, and embarrassment. By the firelight, I saw his face and neck flush as deeply as I was sure mine did once I realized what I'd done.

"Uh… Go Dean?" I smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as I pulled the can opener from my pocket. _Busted._

"I had nothing to do with planning that." Sam blurted out quickly. "It was all him, he pulls stupid pranks like that all the time and-"

"Sam, it's okay. I'm surprised you couldn't hear me laughing when I found it." I said, my smile falling into a much more natural form. "You don't have to be embarrassed with me, remember?"

His face melted into a sweet grin and his eyes softened. "I don't think he intended those to be used on this trip. I think it was just to try to put me off my guard. Get under my skin."

"Did it work?" I asked, poking at the embers around the cans with a long stick.

"Uh, no. It had the opposite effect." Sam said, tossing a small branch onto the fire. "I couldn't stop fuming about it for like an hour."

 _So that's why he was so quiet when we first started our hike._ I thought to myself, nodding slightly. "But then?"

"I put it out of my mind and decided to just… I don't know. Get to know you better, I guess. You were right, we don't really talk all that often." He said.

"The more that I know you the more I want to, it seems." I said softly.

"I feel the same way."

"Must've been hard for you, those first five months I was around. When I couldn't even hold a conversation without having a panic attack." I said as I stabbed a red lump of wood with my stick.

"You've got no idea." Sam said with a snort.

A memory flooded my mind and suddenly I was reliving a scene from months ago. Sam had been asking me questions about my past and I fell in to tears as I tried- I really, really tried- to answer them.

 _"Alright, kids. That's enough for today." Dean said sternly. "Sam, can I talk to you alone?"_

 _Realization colored Sam's face and he glanced at me before following Dean into the hall. They closed the door but didn't go far. I could barely hear their conversation._

 _"What?" Sam asked, obviously frustrated. "I've been patient for five months, Dean. We know her first name and that she probably has PTSD. We know she likes music and cooking and pink polka dots but nothing else." He paused. "She's a stranger to us, Dean. And she's been living with us for five months."_

 _"Cas told us not to push too hard. Remember when you asked about her hobbies and she collapsed?" Dean's voice was just as frustrated as Sam's. "If Cas says we need to take care of her, we will. End of story. Just… try not to give her another panic attack, okay?"_

"Sorry I kept you waiting for so long. I really did try to talk to you guys. Francesca just made it so hard. She'd throw memories of my family at me and I'd just… you know." I said quietly, pulling my knees up to my chest.

"Don't be sorry. We should've made sure you were one hundred percent you right away. The fact that it took us months to find out you were oppressed isn't your fault. We should be the ones apologizing."

"I'm alive and I'm me. That's what matters, right?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah. And I gotta say, even though those first couple months had me beyond frustrated… you were worth the wait. I just wish we could've gotten the real you sooner."

 _No, bad hormones- don't-_ I scooted closer to Sam until my arm was just touching his. "You have the real me now. What're you gonna do about it?"

 _If this sex drive doesn't let up soon, I'm gonna explode._ I thought, mentally palming my forehead for letting it get out like that. As if I weren't horny enough every other day of the week, it seemed to be especially revved up today. My heart pounded, my whole body wanted to be closer… Being alone with tall, dark, and handsome probably had something to do with the surge.

Sam looked at me and grinned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I felt embarrassment swell up in my chest and I returned my attention to the cans. _You put me on the spot, hormones. Traitors. I made you and this is how you treat me?_ "Dinner is probably ready." I said, grabbing a sock to remove the hot cans from the fire without burning myself.

"Were you flirting with me?" Sam pressed, ignoring the cans I placed between us.

It was my turn to blush. "I, um…" Face my actions or fake my way out? Quickly, I picked up a can and started shoving the hot stew into my mouth. Stalling. Stalling would work for now. Sam shook his head with that same tempting grin and took his own can. We ate in silence, but it wasn't long enough for me to work up a good plan.

 _So much for the original plan._ I sighed as my heart continued to pound. The lightest brush of Sam's arm drew all of my attention; every time he lifted the can, he was all I could think about. _No, what are you gonna do, girl? Come on, focus! Make an escape plan._

"You were saying?" Sam said curtly, turning his attention to me once more.

 _No plan. So much for being smooth about it_. "Nevermind. Stupid idea." I said, standing to put some space between us while I tried to calm my heart.

I heard Sam stand and come up behind me. His arms wound around my stomach, sending butterflies afloat; I sighed at the sensation and closed my eyes. I could get used to this. He rested his chin on my shoulder and spoke softly. "I think you know what I want to do about the real you."

"Hmm?"

"I just need your permission. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He said, his lips brushing my ear. I shivered and felt my knees go weak. "No pressure."

I pressed against him, coveting his body heat, shivering as he kissed my neck. "You got me all hot and bothered, Winchester." I whispered, my tone shaking as much as my knees.

"Just say the word."

"We should put the fire out."

* * *

In the darkness that soon consumed the forest, our hands traced toned muscle, caressed every curve, pushed, pulled, squeezed- Something inside me longed, begged, to be with Sam. To be closer than I'd ever been with the hunter I'd come to love as something more than family. Breath came in desperate pants as our lips refused to part ways. Over and over we rolled inside the tent, whispering, moaning, smiling, holding on as if the other would fall away and never be seen again.

"Sam…" I groaned as his fingers tangled in my hair and mine sunk into his back. My clothes suddenly felt very restricting, almost abrasive.

"Ali." He answered from where he was kissing the side of my neck, making his way with his lips to my scars. A strong shiver of pleasure rocked me and I moaned. My fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt as if they had a mind of their own. My face, my belly, my… everything was getting hot. I was glad we'd been swimming so I had something to blame this wet sensation on. He, on the other hand, had no way of playing off what happened to him.

Sam must've noticed me tugging at his shirt because he began working at mine. I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. Guilt washed over me and I suddenly felt ashamed. This wasn't right. This was too fast. Too soon. I couldn't… I can't…

"Wait." I breathed. Immediately, he pulled his head back to meet my gaze.

"Something wrong?" He asked, confused. I saw him cock his head to the side, listening hard for any suspicious noises outside the tent. I wondered what he could hear beyond our own heavy breaths.

"I just…" I swallowed back the lump in my throat and wound my arms tighter around his back; my face pressed into his shoulder. What if he judged me for not being able to finish what I'd started? "I'm not ready for this."

"Not ready for what, exactly?" He asked, breathless.

"You." I whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Ali… we don't have to do anything tonight. We can take it slow." Sam said gently.

I didn't say anything for a few minutes. All I could do was hold him close and listen to his heartbeat. Eventually he laid down beside me in my sleeping bag. "I know this is hard for you." He whispered softly. "You lost someone you thought you couldn't live without. Someone you wanted to grow old with. It hasn't even been a year yet."

"It's been five for you, right?" I asked, fighting back tears.

"Yeah." Sam said. We laid in silence for a few minutes, listening to the frogs and bugs peep all around us. If I listened hard, I could even hear the stream in the distance.

"I feel guilty for moving on." I said, forcing each word out. "It's my fault Mark died."

"It's not, Ali. Really, it's not. The demon took control of you and forced you to go through that. You had no way of stopping her." Sam said, pulling me closer. I shivered, this time from the terrible memory of killing Mark.

"I overpowered her to save you and Dean and Cas. Why couldn't I overpower her to save my husband and son?" I asked, nearly hysterical, heavy sobs ready to tear through my chest. "I just watched her kill them both and did nothing to try to stop her."

"You didn't know how, Ali. It's not your fault."

"But I could've saved them-" The sobs were now in full force, tears making my face cold wherever they touched.

Sam pulled me closer still and wrapped both arms around me. He tucked my head under his chin and let me have my moment surrounded by warmth and protection. After a few minutes, his hand started rubbing my back and the sobs slowly faded.

"Breathe." He said softly. I tried to follow his orders, but I was exhausted. An occasional sob slipped through my lips as I pressed into Sam, willing myself to just melt away. "Just breathe."

"I'm sorry." I whispered between gasping breaths. Never had I been able to just stop sobbing once I started. It usually took me a long time to wind down and get control of my breathing again.

"It's not your fault."

"No, about doing this to you. About…"

"You have nothing to apologize for. I pushed; I'm sorry."

I shook my head against his chest. His shirt was soft as I fisted some of it, trying to hold onto reality as a memory threatened to pull me away. "No. Just don't."

"Get some rest." He said gently, detaching himself from me.

"Don't leave me." I said, my voice so quiet that even I almost didn't hear it. Sam stopped moving away and gently pulled his sleeping bag overtop of us. The night was getting chillier than I had expected. Sure, I would have been fine in my own bag alone, but I felt warmer- and safer- with Sam. He moved in close once again and wadded up a towel for us to use as a pillow.

I rolled over and matched my curves to his. One strong arm rested on my hip until I heard his breathing even out and deepen. Then, as if in slow motion, it slid down to my belly. Maybe it was just me, but the action didn't feel like his arm had just fallen. It felt like he moved it in his sleep, like it was possessively protecting the area. As my mind drifted off in blissful blackness, I wondered if he was dreaming about the little I'd told him of Kole or if he someday wanted to place his hand there and whisper to his own child.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! See you next Saturday!**


	13. Old Oak

**A/N: Vivi here! Rough week. Sorry this is so late. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _I rolled over and matched my curves to his. One strong arm rested on my hip until I heard his breathing even out and deepen. Then, as if in slow motion, it slid down to my belly. Maybe it was just me, but the action didn't feel like his arm had just fallen. It felt like he moved it in his sleep, like it was possessively protecting the area. As my mind drifted off in blissful blackness, I wondered if he was dreaming about the little I'd told him of Kole or if he someday wanted to place his hand there and whisper to his own child._

* * *

"Dean, can we change the station?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling of the Impala from where I lay in the back seat. The smell of leather filled my nose and the sound of radio static filled my ears. I couldn't remember how I'd gotten in the car, or where we were going.

Dean looked over the back seat and grinned in a way that made my skin crawl. "Better run, Li-Li." He purred, his teeth suddenly growing sharp.

I gasped and sat straight up in the tent, tearing myself away from Sam. _That wasn't a normal nightmare. What's going on?_ I asked myself as I looked around. Nothing was amiss inside our little space. No shadows on the outside either.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, sleep heavy in his voice. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eye.

Turning my head, I listened hard for anything that was out of place. The bugs and frogs were loud tonight. They almost sounded like radio static. Nothing sounded out of place. Nothing crashing through the leaf litter. Nothing breaking sticks. No footsteps.

I closed my eyes and tried to put the strange dream behind me. "Nothing, sorry." I said, laying down again.

"Nightmare?" Sam asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"No, just a weird dream." I took a deep breath and sighed.

Leather. Why did I smell leather?

"Do you smell that?" I asked Sam quietly, trying to validate my senses. Quickly, I went to the zipper of the tent and opened it a little. There was a brisk breeze blowing through our campsite and the fire was still out. There was no sign that anything had been disturbed. However, the smell of leather, worn, well-loved leather, was now wafting even stronger into the tent.

"Smell what?" Sam asked, sitting up.

"Sam, when did you say Dean would come?" I asked, my voice nearly silent.

"Tomorrow night, if he's using Dad's method. Why?"

The sound was quiet, almost imperceptible; a stick snapped a few hundred yards away, near the stream. "Sam, pack up, quick. He's coming." I hissed, rushing to change into jeans. I didn't care if Sam was watching or not; all I could think about was failing this test. Once changed, I stuffed all my belongings into my duffel.

"What? Did you see him?" Sam asked, following my lead and packing up as quickly as possible.

"No, I smell his jacket." I said as I rolled up my sleeping bag and attached it to my hiking bag. Luckily we hadn't unpacked a lot of stuff. A few seconds later, we both wore our boots, duffels, and hiking bags.

"You smell- okay, I'll go with it. I am the civilian after all. What now?" Sam asked as we left the tent.

"Run. Quietly. He's almost here already." I said softly, looking around. If I could see anything in the depth of this darkness, it would be a miracle. I could barely see ten feet in front of my face.

"But the tent…" Sam started.

"Leave it. Come on." I began jogging quietly away from the direction I heard the stick break. Downwind of the scent.

"Flashlights are in the bags; I didn't pull them out-" Sam said, following me.

"Can't use them. He's too close, he'll see us." I said, ducking under a branch. I was glad Sam knew how to get around in the dark as well as I did. He was even quieter than I was. If he really had been just a civilian, this challenge would have been nearly impossible.

We jogged nearly silently, dodging branches and downed trees, briar patches and small streams for about two hours. I had no idea what time it was and I couldn't find out without turning my phone on and giving Dean the chance to track it with GPS. I could ask Sam, who had a watch, but I was afraid that if I spoke, it would only help Dean find us more quickly.

Finally, after what seemed like the whole night, I could no longer smell even the faintest scent of leather. I stopped jogging and dropped my things behind a large tree. Even in the dim moonlight, the footprint of the old oak was fascinating; big bundles of twisted roots lay exposed on the ground, some covered with shallow piles of its own leaves concealing a hidden danger below. If I hadn't been careful approaching the tall oak, I may have fallen-

"Shit. Ahh…" Sam growled from the other side of the tree. I rounded the corner and saw him on his knees, holding his right wrist against his chest as his face contorted in pain. The hiking bag and duffels were still in place on his shoulders.

"You okay?" I whispered, scanning the forest as I knelt next to him.

"Yeah I'm- ahh… No, something's wrong." He opened his left hand and let me see his right wrist. It looked fine, but his palm had a nasty set of scrapes that had already begun to bleed.

"You're bleeding." I remarked, moving to bring his hand closer to me so I could see it better in the darkness.

"Don't." He flinched away and gripped his wrist again. "It's not my hand. My wrist… feels like there's fire shooting up my arm." Sam was talking through his teeth, his eyes pained and slightly panicked.

"Let me see." I asked gently, kneeling in front of him. Slowly, Sam released his wrist and I took it gingerly, being careful not to aggravate the area any more than I had to. I kept his right wrist cradled in my right hand and probed along his shoulder. "Tell me if any of what I'm doing hurts." My hand moved down to his arm, probing bone and muscle as I went. There was nothing out of the ordinary. His shoulder and elbow were fine.

When I got to his forearm, he gasped. "That hurt."

I held his forearm and put the fingers of my other hand against his fingers. "Squeeze."

Sam frowned and let out a frustrated breath when he could do little more than close his fingers before the pain became too much. "That's all I can do."

"Any numbness in your hand?" I asked, brushing my fingers over his skin. "Or your arm?"

"No."

"Tingling?"

"No."

"Did we bring any ACE bandages?" I asked. "I think you broke your wrist. Probably a Colles fracture from the way you fell. Palms out, arms straight, right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I think the bags gave me a little extra momentum. I've fallen like that before, but never carrying so much weight." He brought his wrist back to his chest and started digging through the gear duffel. After a few seconds, he produced a little brown bundle and handed it to me.

"Any antiseptic in there?" I asked.

He started to look again but gasped after a moment. "Gah. Sorry, you'll have to look." Sam sat back and closed his eyes, holding his wrist.

"How bad is the pain?" I started riffling through the gear duffel and found the little plastic box that we called a med kit. There were alcohol pads; good enough. I also found a few knives and several guns, which I knew were there. Better keep a knife handy; I wasn't sure what Dean was yet, but it couldn't be something inhumanly fast. Close combat was a real possibility.

"Uh, eight outta ten when I move, six outta ten when it's still."

"Let's keep it still, then." I said. "I need to clean out your palm first. May I?" Holding my hand out to him, I wasn't sure if we should continue on or not. If Dean was really tracking us already and I wasn't imagining the smell of his jacket, then if we stayed put he'd find us soon. He could help me get Sam to a hospital for a proper cast and some pain medication. A broken wrist is nothing to shake a stick at. If the blood supply or the nerves had gotten severed or pinched, he could lose his hand. Necrotic bone doesn't bounce back.

Sam gave me his hand and I kept it as still as possible as I wiped the dirt and some bark splinters away. Eventually, I broke down and took out a flashlight to finish cleaning the cuts out. In the bright light, I saw that both his palms were deep red and would probably bruise later today or tomorrow. The lacerations on his hand weren't too bad; I bandaged them quickly and within a minute of finishing that his wrist was immobilized by the ACE bandage. I pulled a long sleeved shirt from my bag and crafted a makeshift sling to keep it elevated and out of harm's way.

"Thanks. We better get moving. Dean will catch up quick if he's on our trail." Sam said, standing. He let out a tense breath once he was vertical.

I balked at him. "No, Sam. Sit down. We're not going anywhere." Moving to stand in front of him, I crossed my arms.

"What?" He asked, actual confusion in his tone and expression. "If we don't keep going, Dean will catch up and you could fail. We don't even know what he's mimicking right now."

"Sam, you are more important than me passing this test. If I have to choose between avoiding bunker nerd status and protecting your wellbeing, I choose you. Every time." I said flatly. No sense in trying to lower my voice if my plan was for Dean to find us.

Sam snorted. "Ali, I don't want you to have to stay in the bunker all the time. I want you with us in the field. Besides, if Dean catches us, it won't be pleasant. Dad used to…" Sam shifted his weight and sighed. "Dad used to use dull wooden daggers to mimic werewolf claws. Bullet casings with the bullets removed for vampire teeth. Stuff that hurt but wouldn't leave lasting marks if we failed his tests. Ali, whatever he's mimicking, it will hurt when he fails you."

No. Dean wouldn't actually hurt me again. I was his little sis, right? He wouldn't take wooden daggers to my skin or jab casings into my neck… Surely he wouldn't draw blood or land a blow to my stomach… to irritate what he thought was a just a sensitive gut… Upsetting my stomach wouldn't leave a lasting mark…

At least in his mind.

I felt my whole body tense up at the thought of Dean unknowingly killing my little champ. There would be no way Cas could locate us in time to save the kid. If Dean found us, I could well and truly lose another child.

"Ali? I can keep going. We need to move." Sam said quietly, taking in the procession of emotions that crossed my face.

"Are you sure, Sam? You're good to hike for two more days?" I asked. Maybe I could pretend-kill Dean before he got to me. If I was super careful, super vigilant, maybe I could see him coming… But then how would I know how to pretend-kill whatever he was impersonating? If I didn't use the right weapon or spell or whatever, he wouldn't stop attacking. One wrong move and my dynamic duo would become a solo act once more.

"Yeah. I'll live."

"I don't like this. I'm just putting that out there." I said quietly, eyeing the hunter as he stood before me. He seemed okay for now.

"Let's go."

* * *

The sun rose on Sam and I as we walked through the unending forest. I was tired. I'm sure Sam was tired, too. My feet ached and my shoulder throbbed to the point where it had gone numb several times already. I hadn't smelled the jacket since we lost Dean hours ago, before Sam fell. With a huff, I dropped my things beside a stream, helped Sam remove his bags, and sat on the elevated bank. Sam did the same. I took my shoes off and put my feet in the cool water, basking in the sudden calming of my nerves.

"Let me see your hands." I said after a few minutes of silence. Sam offered me his left, which had indeed bruised over the lower half of his palm. The mark was black and blotchy, reflecting where it had probably struck a root. "And the other one?"

"Same as that one, probably. It's still wrapped up and I don't want to move my arm." Sam said with a grimace. "It's been moving all night."

"I'll just check it later, I guess. How's the pain?"

"Six out of ten, most of the time. I can manage." Sam said.

"I feel bad for making you run without a flashlight. It's my fault you fell." I said, absently staring into the little stream. It couldn't have been more than a few inches deep, but the bank was several feet tall; it made for a nice resting place.

"I can run in the dark just fine. There were leaves and I couldn't see the roots; one of 'em bowed up and my foot caught- it's not your fault. Don't try to take the blame." Sam said.

"It's too late for that." I said. "Hungry?"

"No. Just tired, mostly."

I looked at Sam and moved closer to him. The action was supposed to be comforting, but as I got closer, I felt him radiating heat. Touching my hand to his forehead, my suspicion was confirmed. "Sam, how long have you had a fever?"

"I didn't know I had one." Sam said, looking to me in surprise.

"Do you feel sick?"

"No. I'm not really even cold." He admitted.

"Broken bones can cause a low fever." I said quietly to myself. _But this fever doesn't feel that low._ "Are you sure you feel okay?"

"Aside from my friggin' broken wrist, I'm fine." Sam said.

"I don't know if we should keep going." I said hesitantly. "Let me check your other hand. Maybe you have an infection."

"Do you have to?" He whined, a worried look on his face.

"Yes." I rolled my eyes and pulled the knife from my pocket so I could cut through his bandages after I'd unwound the ACE wrap. He turned to face me and held out his injured hand. Just before I started unwrapping the bandages, his eyes glanced behind me and widened.

"Look out!" Sam shouted, using both arms to shove me down into the stream with a pained grunt. I yelped at his action and nearly fell face-first into the shallow water. I landed with an icy splash, momentarily stunned. My head whipped around as soon as I steadied myself and I saw Sam dodge a punch from what looked like a man before dropping himself into the stream with me. "Run!" He shouted, shoving at me. I obeyed, taking off barefoot down the streambed with Sam in tow.

 _Good._ I thought as Sam and I climbed the other bank and took off into the trees. We ducked under branches and weaved our way through the mess of undergrowth. Dean's footsteps could be heard pursuing us with predator-like determination. _Now that Dean's here, maybe he'll see Sam's arm in that sling and call a time-out. Then we can get Sam to safety before that infection really starts acting up._ _There's no way Dean would make us keep up the charade if he knows Sam is actually hurt._

The thumping of boot-clad feet followed behind Sam and I, keeping pace with us but unable to gain ground. Even without shoes, I was fast, and I knew Sam could outrun me.

But Dean could leave me in the dust, too. Why wasn't he running faster?

And come to think of it, those footsteps didn't match his running gait at all. We'd gone jogging together; I knew his gait as well as I knew Sam's and my own.

With dread building in my chest, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sam, pain and panic on his face, with a man close behind us. A man who had black, greying hair. A trim beard. Wrinkles and a slight build. And he was shorter than even me.

 _Not Dean._ I shouted in my head over and over. _Not Dean?!_

Hadn't Dean said there wasn't a case here? Did he knowingly leave us in a forest with some supernatural killer?

With another glance behind me, the man appeared to just that: a man. No flashing of teeth, no claws, no blood on him. No weird eyes, strange growls, or creepy markings on his skin. Maybe this was just some freak who liked to attack hikers. He had nearly punched Sam, after all.

"What do you want?" I asked loudly, not missing a step. Sam was panting hard beside me; I wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this pace up. His arm was moving way too much to not be causing him excruciating pain.

There was no response from the man. I asked again. Nothing. "If you don't leave us alone, I'll be forced to retaliate. Consider this your first and last warning."

The man growled a very human growl. I pulled the knife from my belt and gripped it the way Dean taught me. _Please back off when I stop. I don't wanna hurt an innocent man…_

Without first warning Sam, I slid to a stop and jerked around, holding the knife behind me and my free hand out in front. "Stop."

"Ali, don't-" Sam slid to a stop a few yards behind me.

 _Good. Stay out of the way, Sam._ I thought, trying to remain calm.

The man slowed to a stop in front of me. "What do you want?" I asked clearly and loudly.

The man's face hardened and he clenched his fists several times, but didn't approach. Slowly, he reached into the pocket of his canvas jacket. "Don't move." I shouted. What if he had a weapon? _Come on, Dean, where are you?_

The man suddenly charged at me, rearing back an arm to land a blow. He opened his mouth and flashed a set of very inhuman and altogether terrifying teeth at me. I gasped softly and heard Sam shout behind me. The youngest Winchester's footsteps echoed in my ears.

There was a good chance that this thing, whatever it was, could hurt Sam if it got much closer. And in Sam's condition, another injury may just make it impossible to leave this forest intact. Even if Dean did come.

I had to kill this thing. I was just glad I wouldn't have to kill an innocent human.

My resolve in place, I took a few steps forward to meet the creature. As I did so, I shifted the position of the dagger in my hand, holding it blade up instead of blade down. A lot of the things that Bobby taught me about could be killed by a silver blade to the heart. I hoped with all my being that this was one of those creatures, even though I didn't recognize it's dentition from any of the books I'd read during my training.

The creature was close now, just a few feet away. He started his attack, but I ducked out of the way of his fist at the last second. His hand barely touched my shoulder, bouncing off and moving behind me with no effect.

I slid the knife under his ribcage and twisted. The action was surprisingly easy; not psychologically, but physically. The blade sunk in exactly where it was meant to go without any resistance. However, I was a mess of emotion as I watched his eyes freeze on mine, his face relax, and his body go limp as his blood trickled down my knife and onto my hand and arm. His hand brushed the back of my neck, under my ponytail, as he went down and I felt goosebumps rise where his skin touched mine.

It felt like forever before his whole body hit the ground. I watched him fall, somehow keeping the knife in my hand the whole time; it must've slid out when he went down. Sam was at my side before I had totally processed the scene. He looked just as confused and unnerved as I felt.

"What the hell?" Sam asked, looking at the man. There was blood on his jacket; I couldn't make myself look at it. My stomach churned at the thought. Normally, I was fine with blood. Hell, I'd sewed up more people than I could remember. But since my little champ entered the picture, I could barely stomach the mental image of blood, let alone the real thing.

"I don't know." I whispered, on the verge of tears. "I don't know what's going on. Did I just kill an innocent man or is he a monster? I thought I saw f-fangs but maybe I imagined them…" The man's mouth was closed when I finally got up the nerve to look at him again.

"He… he could be human, but… I mean, some monsters look like humans." Sam said quietly. "We need to keep moving. This doesn't change the test. We'll just tell Dean when all this is over."

"We're just gonna leave him?" I asked, my voice going up an octave.

"What else can we do, Ali? There's no service out here. We can't call the police, we can't call for help. We don't have a shovel and there could be more where he came from. We just have to keep moving." Sam said, taking one last glance at the unmoving man before wrapping his uninjured arm around my shoulders, steering me away. "We need to get our things and move on. Are your feet okay?"

"They're fine." I said numbly as we walked away. Sure, they were bleeding, but the scar tissue there kept most of the damage restricted to the skin. Little cuts, a few scrapes. Nothing that would kill me. By the time we got back to our bags, they didn't even hurt anymore. I rinsed my knife off in the stream and put it back in my belt before returning to Sam, who was standing amidst the bags with slumped shoulders.

"I don't know if I can carry all that again." Sam said. He sounded like he was admitting defeat. He also sounded tired and very much in pain.

"We'll only take what we really need. We can hide the rest under some leaves." I said, going through my own bag. "We can come back for it after the test."

We worked quickly, making five bags into three. One hiking bag, two duffels. Sam took the gear duffel and I carried my usual load. "Let's move out." Sam said after we piled leaves over the other bags at the base of the big oak.

"We'll stop again for lunch in a couple hours. That sound good to you?" I asked as we moved through the trees. I was so glad my shoulder had stopped hurting. The adrenaline from the fight must've numbed it, or pushed the swelling down, because now it was like it hadn't hurt in the first place. My feet didn't hurt, my sunburn was gone; this was nice.

"Yeah. Lead the way." Sam said.

I don't remember much of the next five hours. What I do recall is stumbling like a drunk through a dense grove of birch trees before I actually ran into one and fell flat on my ass. I started giggling and couldn't stop until my vision became blurry and two Sams knelt down beside me looking all kinds of worried.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! I love hearing from you guys; you make my day! See you (hopefully, I'll try really hard this week) Saturday!**


	14. Leather and Bowie Knives

**A/N: Vivi here! I hope you enjoy the next chapter; it's fresh off the press! Like literally, I just finished writing this a few minutes ago. Don't forget to review!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _I don't remember much of the next five hours. What I do recall is stumbling like a drunk through a dense grove of birch trees before I actually ran into one and fell flat on my ass. I started giggling and couldn't stop until my vision became blurry and two Sams knelt down beside me looking all kinds of worried._

* * *

A wave of nausea brought consciousness around and I realized something was wrapped around me, confining my body. I pushed against it, trying to break free but it tightened around me; the panic did nothing to help with the nausea. "S'm." I slurred, trying to open my eyes and finding it very difficult.

Movement, very close by. Something scuffing in dirt. Adrenaline surged through me as I forced my head to fall to the side of the sound and with great effort slid one eye open a little. If something was going to kill me in the backwoods of who knows where, I wanted to see it with my own eyes.

"Ali? Hey, wake up." Sam's voice. I assumed the weight that dropped onto my stomach was his hand. "Come back to me."

The wave of relief that washed over me was better than any drug I'd ever experienced.

I groaned when my eyelid slid shut again. I couldn't really see much more than a dim light through it anyway. The thing was still around me though, still restricting what little movements I managed to make. With weak arms, I pushed against it again.

The sound of a zipper met my ear and suddenly the thing was gone and I shivered. Cold air hit my feet. "I fixed up those cuts while you were out." Sam said, brushing some hair behind my ear. "Are you still coming back or do I need to wait a few more minutes?"

"'m back." I murmured slowly.

"You don't sound back. How do you feel?"

My eyebrows knit in confusion. _Feel? I don't feel anything, really. Cold, maybe. No pain. Tired, I guess._ "Cold."

"Any pain?"

"No." I was finally able to slide both eyes open. Immediately, I squinted at the bright light beside me. A campfire. The sky was dark. Sam was seated beside me, arm still in a sling, with half a sleeping bag folded onto his lap. I was laying on the other half. "What happened?" I asked. Had I really lost the entire day?

"Uh, from what I've put together, that creature you killed put a… a medication patch on the back of your neck somehow. Made you pass out once enough of it got in your system. I found it after you hit the tree and fell. It was on for at least five hours and I can't figure out what it is. Honestly I was worried you wouldn't wake up." Sam said, scrubbing his face with his good hand. "I must've checked your pulse every two minutes."

"A medication patch?" I asked, my speech slurred from the sleepiness that still coursed through my veins. "Where is it now?"

Sam leaned over, returning a moment later with a small, sticky, clear patch. "I was hoping you could identify it."

Weakly, I held out one hand and he gave the thing to me. After a quick examination, I recognized it by some of its faint markings. "That's a lorazepam patch." I brought it closer for another look. "Geez. This is the highest concentration I've ever seen. You can only get these at special hospitals. Major pain management clinics. This is like the highest dose available in a patch." Another wave of nausea had me struggling on my hands and knees. With renewed vigor, I stumbled a few yards from our campsite and threw up what little I had in my stomach into the leaves at the base of a tree.

"Ali?" Sam was by my side almost immediately. "Is this just your stomach thing or is it a side effect? Do I need to go look for Dean? Maybe he's close enough to hear if I shout-"

"Stomach thing, Sam. Weren't you just all gung-ho to push on no matter what?" I asked. Standing somewhat vertically, I spat the last of the acid out of my mouth and let Sam help me and my jelly legs back to the sleeping bag.

"Yeah, but if you're having a life-threatening reaction to a medication, I'd rather have you in the bunker than not at all, y'know?" Sam said as we sat down next to the fire. "Did you break the bandages?"

"No, they're fine." I said after checking my feet over. "Speaking of, I want to change yours before anything else happens." Sam grimaced and didn't move to give me his palm even after I put my hand out. "I'm gonna do it eventually. It's either now or after that infection puts you into a fever haze." He still didn't move. I sighed in frustration. The hunter shot me a worried look.

"I guess I don't have a choice then?" Sam asked. He looked the opposite of enthused about getting his arm handled again.

"You always have a choice, Sam. You know what you should do." I said flatly, exhaustion beginning to creep back into my muscles.

He took his arm out of the sling carefully and I held it gently as I unwrapped the ACE bandage, revealing the soiled gauze on his palm. I pulled out my knife to cut the nasty thing off.

It was the knife I'd killed that creature with.

I took a deep breath. _Still just a knife. It's just a knife_. I slid the tip of it under a detached section of gauze and pushed to cut the rest of it off.

Blood dripped onto the sleeping bag beneath me. "Oh my goodness, Sam I'm so sorry-" I gasped, stopping short when I saw no blood on his hand or the blade of my knife. "…the hell?"

The blood was dripping from the hilt, where it meets the blade. I felt no pain in my hand, though the pain my shoulder and foot were slowly returning. I removed the blade from under the bandage and held it over the leaf litter beside us as I pinched the blade between two fingers and pushed on the hilt.

More blood oozed out and slopped onto the leaves as the blade retracted into the handle. I was speechless. _A prop knife?_

Sam started chuckling. It was deep, hearty, humorous, and irresistible. Well, it would have been was I not utterly perplexed as to what the freaking hell was going on. "Is this is a prop knife?" I snapped. "Did you know about this?"

"No, I had no idea." Sam's smile didn't fade at the tone of my voice.

"What's so funny?"

"It makes sense now." Sam said. "This is part of Dean's test. I guess he didn't want us killing that hunter back there."

"Hunter? But he had those freaky teeth…" I said, my brain struggling to connect 'hunter' with 'freaky toothed monster'. "Pointy fangs in the front and another set at his canines. I saw them."

"Those were a prop too, I'll bet." Sam said. "I wonder who that was. I didn't recognize him."

"Aren't you upset that Dean sent another hunter in after us? I mean, he was supposed to come himself, wasn't he? He was gonna be the monster?" I stammered, dropping the useless thing onto the leaves.

"I thought he was, but maybe he sent somebody else for a more realistic experience." Sam shrugged. "Anyway, should be over now. We can go back to the road."

I hesitated to agree with him. Something didn't feel right about this. Then again, the fake knife to the heart area had downed the hunter/actor. Maybe it _was_ over. "I still want to replace those bandages. Unlike this stupid test, your injuries are real." I said quietly, trying to put myself in Dean's shoes to piece out his logic. Why send another hunter when Dean himself would be the one deciding if I passed or failed? Would he really take the word of another hunter when it came to my grade?

"Fine." Sam grumbled, presenting his hand again. I pulled my pocketknife, equipped with a tiny three inch blade, out of my pocket and cut the gauze off.

"Damn, boy." I breathed in horror. The yellow and red hues that illuminated the campsite from the fire landed on a very infected and swollen set of cuts, which were unsurprisingly surrounded by deep bruises. The fire light surely made the yellows of his cuts more sallow, and the red angrier than they actually were… I hoped. I pressed one of my palms to Sam's forehead, surprising him.

"What?"

"You have… um… a lot goin' on here. Do you feel chilly?" I asked, scrutinizing his body language and the color of his skin for any signs of distress or sepsis.

"Maybe a little. But I know I have a fever. You told me before. I've been sitting here without a jacket on trying to keep it down." Sam said, shrugging. "It's just because I broke my arm, right?"

"Well, I'm not so sure anymore. Your hand is infected, dude. We need to get you outta here as soon as possible." I glanced up at the sky, which was pitch black. "But I'm not so sure going out in this is the best idea. Didn't end well last time."

"Ali, you can't even walk. I'll be fine. Just clean it out and wrap it up." Sam said shortly. "We're staying here until light. You need rest after today."

I snorted as I gently scrubbed as much puss and drainage away from his cuts as possible using an alcohol pad I got from the med kit. After a few seconds, Sam began to squirm. I tried to ignore the movement; this was for his own good. "I could say the same about you." I wrapped gauze from the pathetic med kit around his hand before replacing the ACE bandage and immobilizing his wrist again. "Where are we, anyway?"

"That bunch of trees we were going through when you passed out. I couldn't carry you very far. I think we're pretty well protected from the wind though. The trees are dense. If Dean were out there, I doubt he'd even be able to see the firelight." Sam said, taking a log from the pile that I hadn't noticed and placing it on the fire. "Other than that, I'm actually lost."

"You're lost? The great Sam Winchester is lost?" I asked, unnerved. "How are we supposed to get back to the road? Didn't you navigate us through the forest when we were hunting down that wendigo? You were so good at it then." In the back of my mind, I was running through the provisions we had left. We had two more days' worth, considering we hadn't eaten yet today. Well, I hadn't. Probably should do that soon. The last thing I needed was to feel my tattoo pull.

"I had a map and compass then. Dean didn't leave us any of that. And literally running around with a broken arm isn't exactly the easiest way to concentrate on direction." Sam said, poking at the fire with a stick.

"So we just… wander back the way we came? That'd lead us out, right?" I suggested hopefully. "I mean, it's better than waiting here to be rescued."

"You'll have to lead. I can't remember where we came from." Sam was looking more and more exhausted with every minute we spent talking.

"I can do that." I said softly. "Why don't we hit the hay? Get some much needed rest."

"Yeah." Sam said, standing. He got his own sleeping bag and laid it out near the fire, close to mine.

I glared down at the little puddle of fake blood on my bag and frowned. "Can I sleep with you in yours? Mine's got blood all over it." I asked without thinking.

"Yeah. Climb in." Sam said, his voice nearly slurring now. I couldn't stand on my own anymore- still too much lorazepam and not enough adrenaline in my system- so I crawled to his bag and rolled in, cuddling up to him as I shivered. "Cold?" He asked.

"Just tired." I lied. There were so many things going on and I was overwhelmed. Dean sent a hunter after us. He himself could still be hunting us as well. He might cause a miscarriage if he caught us; that other guy could've too, but he was sloppy in his attack. Obviously not trained by a Winchester. Sam was sick and getting worse. His arm was broken. My feet were in bandages and I was stumbling like a fool from the lorazepam.

Not to mention that Bobby still had demons and shifters in his house, my baby was still the final ingredient in a spell that would seal a demon inside me for hundreds of years, and- oh yeah- I was pregnant with a Winchester and not one Winchester knew about it.

No reason to be overwhelmed, right?

I didn't get much sleep that night.

* * *

Morning came. Sam was still sluggish despite sleeping relatively well last night. He shivered at times, but I did my best to keep his fever under control. There were no medicines in the med kit; I relied on the chilly breeze that wafted through the foliage around us to cool him off.

We packed up what little we still had once the sun rose. I was finally able to stand. The fake knife was wiped off and tucked back into my belt with a frustrated huff. If it had really worked on the other hunter, it was probably good to keep around. We ate a quick breakfast before heading out. Sam wasn't hungry. I didn't push him to eat.

Backtracking took a little while. I knew the ways we'd come; I was observant enough to see some landmarks every hundred yards or so and commit them to memory. Unique trees or a cliff. A patch of flowers or a clearing. By noon we'd made it back to the place I took down the hunter/actor.

"Sit here for a minute." I told Sam as we stopped at the familiar stream. He obeyed wordlessly, his cheeks flushed as he shivered and pulled his knees close to his chest on the forest floor. I could tell he was miserable and it tugged at my heartstrings. The best thing for him now was to get him to Dean. Dean would help. The sooner we ran into him, the better. Honestly I was surprised we hadn't run into him yet. I thought he'd been tracking us. Maybe he really had just sent another hunter.

If it really was a hunter. I jogged away from Sam after a quick scan of the area. Sure enough, the place where I'd taken the man down was abandoned. There was a pool of gooey fake blood and an indent from where he'd fallen, but no body. No signs of dragging either. He was either a hunter or a monster that couldn't be killed by a fake silver knife to the heart.

I let Sam sit for a few minutes before he stood on his own. "We better get going."

"Don't you want to rest a little more? We've been walking for hours." I said from where I sat against a tree.

"I want to get out of here." He said, swaying a bit and swallowing hard.

"Okay, but drink some water. You're looking a little dehydrated." I dug a canteen out of my pack and handed it to him, waiting patiently until he'd downed half of it.

"Happy?" He asked, giving it back.

"Thrilled." I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. We continued walking through the thick undergrowth. I tried to choose the easiest paths, avoiding steep inclines and dense plant life, to keep Sam on his feet. Every time I glanced behind me he seemed to be breathing harder. His skin kept fluctuating between deathly pale and beet red flushed. I was so wrapped up in worry that I didn't even realize we'd arrived at the big oak tree until a root caught my foot and I nearly fell.

"Careful." Sam said weakly, giving the roots a wide berth.

"Yeah, no kidding." I said, jerking my foot out of its entrapment and tucking a few stray hairs behind my ear as the wind shifted. "Let's rest here for a minute-"

 _Leather._ I breathed deep, closing my eyes as I tried to figure out where it was coming from. I couldn't place it, but the wind was no longer blowing from behind us. It had shifted and was now blowing against us. If that smell really was Dean's jacket, then he hadn't been following us. He'd actually sent a random hunter to attack us.

"Jerk." I growled as I dumped my bags next to where Sam sat.

"What did I do?" He asked, confused.

"Not you, Sam. Dean. I smell leather again." I said as I scanned the area. The smell was probably carried from pretty far upwind; it was faint to say the least.

"How can you smell that?" Sam asked slowly, rubbing his stomach absently with a grimace on his face. "I don't smell anything."

"Guess I have a sharp nose." I said quietly, taking a seat next to him.

"Have you always been like that?" Sam asked.

"No, this just started happening a little while ago." I said, looking him over.

"How long ago?"

"After Francesca-" I had to consciously keep my eyes from widening as I realized my slip up. Increased sensitivity to smells is common in pregnancy. What if Sam knew that? Surely he had enough evidence by now to accuse me. Yet he didn't.

"She did something to you, didn't she?" Sam asked. "More than just possession... Is it something permanent?"

"No. Nothing permanent." I said quietly, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my chin on them. I couldn't look at him.

"A spell? A curse?" Sam probed further.

"No. It's just the soul thing, remember? It'll fade in time." I said, hoping that would satisfy his curiosity. I wasn't ready for Sam to know about the baby. He wouldn't treat me the same afterwards. And right now was definitely not a good time to shock him with a kid.

"Right." Sam said, obviously not convinced. However, he didn't press for any more information. "If we're gonna get back before sundown, we better get moving." He stood and I joined him without another word.

We made it back to our campsite in record time. I decided to take a less meandering path; granted, it wasn't the way we'd come- we had been running in a panic after all, not watching where we were going- but it was in the right direction and soon I saw our campsite in the distance. The tarp was in stark contrast to the rest of the landscape. It was still early in the evening; the sun was shining and as the tarp flapped in the breeze, it reflected a few glinting rays.

"Home sweet home." I mumbled as we approached. Breathing deep, my suspicions were confirmed. _He was definitely here that night._ I thought as a stronger waft of leather met my nose. The tent was wide open and empty, the tarp still in place, the fire pit unused since we left it. Dean hadn't stayed long. So where was he now?

"Any sign of him?" Sam asked softly. I turned around to see him sway a bit before bracing himself on a tree. Frowning, I went to him and took his duffel, shouldering it.

"He was here but he didn't stay. Let's get back to the road before sundown and get this stupid test over with." I said. "Unless you need another break?" Stopping short, I realized that he hadn't had a chance to sit for a few hours. He looked exhausted and had bags under his reddening eyes. His fever must be getting worse.

"No." He said. "It's not long now. Follow the marks on the trees from here."

 _Right, we marked the trees._ I thought with some relief. At least now I had some definite direction. "Come on then. We'll go slow."

Sam just nodded. We walked mostly side by side after that. He was constantly reaching out to either a nearby tree or to me to keep his balance. I slowed significantly after he nearly fell the first time. He was no longer trying to hide the pain and misery on his face; the constant grimace, flushed cheeks, sweating, shivering, and pained panting were constant now. The sun began to set as we reached one of the first few marks. I could tell because it was deep; Sam's blade had dulled after a while and the marks were shallower the deeper into the forest we went.

"Break." Sam panted, gripping my shoulder hard and squeezing his eyes shut. "Please."

"Yeah, yeah. Here, take a seat." I said, helping him sink to the ground and lean heavily against a large tree. "Something wrong?" I asked hesitantly.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times before shaking his head. "No, just need to rest for a minute."

"You sure?" I asked, crouching next to him as I scanned the forest around us. No signs of life save a few birds flitting through the trees.

"Yeah."

"We're almost there. The road is just a little ways away. Not long now." I said, a weak smile on my lips. "We'll get you all set up in no time, okay?"

He closed his eyes and nodded, focusing on breathing. I frowned, unsure as to what I should do.

"I'm gonna scout up ahead. Maybe Dean's already here. If he is, I can bring him back to help. Okay?" I asked. Sam nodded faintly before resting his head against the tree.

It really wasn't far. Maybe a mile. I got halfway there before I could see the long break in trees that was the road. We could definitely make it, so long as Sam kept his legs under him for a little while longer.

There was a faint sound. Just as soft as the one I'd heard back at the campsite that first night.

A twig snapping.

In one fluid movement, I pulled the fake knife from my belt and whipped my head toward the sound. At the same time, the wind shifted, blowing in the complete opposite direction. There was the leather smell again.

And there was Dean. Holding a shining tactical blade. Grinning with malice in his eyes and two sets of fangs in his mouth. He twirled the knife and assumed a confident, low stance; I could tell from his posture that he'd been stalking me. I wasn't sure how long; it unnerved me that I'd missed his presence like that.

"You killed my partner." He said, the grin fading.

"Dean, can we not do this right now? There's something wrong with-" I started, only to be interrupted by an angry growl as Dean rushed me. I got out of the way just in time, turning to see the knife heading straight for my chest.

The very shiny knife. The very real looking knife. The very familiar looking knife that I'd used to cut my hair back at the bunker.

Dean's very real, and very sharp, bowie knife.

The man who'd called me family was plunging a deadly weapon directly at my chest.

 _Guess the test isn't over._

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to leave a review! See you next Saturday!**


	15. Differences Between Hemoglobin and Dye

**A/N: Vivi here! Welcome back to FP. I'm finally approaching a part in the story where I already have a couple scenes pre-written. Should make posting on time a lot easier.**

 **FYI, some swearing and a little violence in this chapter. Nothing too graphic.**

 **Happy Easter! Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Dean, can we not do this right now? There's something wrong with-" I started, only to be interrupted by an angry growl as Dean rushed me. I got out of the way just in time, turning to see the knife heading straight for my chest._

 _The very shiny knife. The very real looking knife. The very familiar looking knife that I'd used to cut my hair back at the bunker._

 _Dean's very real, and very sharp, bowie knife._

 _The man who'd called me family was plunging a deadly weapon directly at my chest._

Guess the test isn't over.

* * *

Stumbling backwards, I fell and narrowly missed having the blade leave a deep gash in my skin. I wasn't quick enough, though. The razor sharp edge sliced a neat, shallow, long line that was now slowly leaking red into my clothing.

"What the hell, Dean?" I snapped, terrified, as I leapt to my feet. I paced back a few more steps to put some distance between us.

"You killed Li. Now you're gonna pay." Dean said, rushing me again. I caught his arm as he tried to swing the knife at me. Shoving hard, I put him off balance and used his momentum to put him into the thick trunk of a nearby tree.

"What the hell kind of test is this?" I shouted, touching my cut and revealing the very real blood that had already spilled. I held my hand towards him as he stood; I must've knocked the wind out of him. "I'm still very much alive, Dean. Nothing killed me. I'm not possessed. I'm not Francesca."

Dean grunted and repositioned his knife, holding it blade down. "You killed my partner. I don't care what you are." He began slowly walking towards me; I held my ground.

"You either really love LARPing or something happened to you since you dropped us off." I said evenly, trying to hide the fear in my voice. If something had happened to him, this fake knife wasn't going to protect Sam, my baby, or me. And my little pocketknife wouldn't do much either.

 _Let's just hope this is part of the test._ I thought, my eyes never leaving him as came closer still.

Dean grinned, revealing the same fangs that the hunter/actor/creature had. _Maybe something turned him when he was following us. That's why he didn't track us after the campsite… Oh no. Dean must've found the thing I killed and taken it. That was his… his partner?_ My eyes grew wide. What happened to Dean?

Would I have to… No, I couldn't hurt Dean…

But I had to protect Sam…

 _Cas, I hope you have your ears on. Something's wrong with Dean. He's got these crazy fangs and he- he cut me. Sam is sick and I don't want Dean to hurt him but I don't want to hurt Dean. I could use some help, but I don't know where I am._ I prayed quickly. Then I remembered my location warding tattoo. I could cut it-

Dean was close enough now that when he lunged I didn't have time to sidestep him. All I could do was grip his knife hand and keep him from plunging the thing into my neck. There was no way this was part of the test; he was using too much force. He pushed into me, sending us both to the ground. I whimpered as he landed hard on top of me, sending pain through my sore chest and my back, where I'd landed on a few fallen branches.

I kneed him as hard as I could right where it hurt. That gave me enough time to push him off and get to my feet.

"Damn it." I groaned, trying to stretch out my painfully spasming back. Hopefully he hadn't actually broken anything. Before I put some distance between us again, I tore the bowie knife from his hand and slipped it into the back of my belt. I decided to try the fake knife first; if he was acting, he was doing a very good job. I didn't want to go straight for real damage without seeing if he was actually himself or not. But if push came to shove, I could pull the bowie knife out and defend us in a fraction of a second.

"Damn it." Dean groaned, on his knees with his head pressed into the leaf litter. He was obviously still in pain.

 _You deserve it, you jerk._ I sneered in my head. While he was down, I took a few seconds to scan the area for any other hunter/actor/monsters. My hand tensed around the little fake knife at the thought of more… whatever Dean was or was pretending to be crawling around out amongst the trees.

Before I knew what was happening, two rough hands encased my neck and squeezed. I tried to gasp but couldn't; my hands flew to my neck and my eyes focused on the face just inches from mine.

Dean roughly backed me into a tree with a look of hard determination on his face. His eyes seemed to search mine for a few seconds as I let my knife hand fall in a show of weakness, making my eyes roll back as I let up on the protesting in my left hand as well, feigning loss of consciousness.

I poked the fake knife in the spot where it should have gone up under his ribcage and directly into his heart. He seemed surprised as he looked down and removed one hand from my neck.

Only to press his other palm into its place and pin my right arm, the knife wielding arm, against the tree.

 _Oh shit._ I thought, my body going into full panic mode. _It's really not Dean anymore._

I twisted my arm to try and free it, inadvertently twisting the fake knife as well. If I could just reach the bowie knife… I didn't have to kill Dean, just get him off of me…

Dean's grip let up suddenly and I gasped at the chance to get air. I saw his face go limp and his eyes fall out of focus. Something was dripping down my hand as he fell to the ground in front of me. I glanced down at my arm. It was covered in sticky red stuff.

 _Did I- did I use the wrong blade?_ I thought, momentarily frozen as the goo dripped from me onto Dean. He wasn't moving, eyes still open and unfocused. I tossed the knife away like it was a poisonous snake and reached frantically behind me.

The bowie knife was still there. In fact, it had flayed my back when he pushed me against the tree. Blood was oozing from there too now.

Hesitantly, I nudged him with my boot. "Dean, spare me the freaking death scene, please? Sam's hurt." _He's just acting. He's just acting._ I told myself frantically as I searched for any sign of movement. For any sign of life.

He took his damn time. Slowly, he took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked me dead in the eye. "Where?"

I kicked his foot as hard as I could, making him jump. Then I kicked it again and again, allowing tears to form in my eyes. "You jerk!" I screamed. "You scared the shit outta me. I thought you were gonna kill me."

"I had to make it seem real. I wouldn't have actually hurt you past a couple little scratches." He said, standing. He shook out the foot I'd kicked and grimaced as he put weight on it.

"And who was that guy? The one that attacked us in the forest?" I demanded, crossing my arms. "He drugged me."

"He told me all about it. Lee Chambers, hunter Bobby and I know. He was playing the role of my partner." Dean said, brushing some dirt off his jacket. "Now where's-"

I slapped him, not as hard as I have in the past, but enough to turn his head. "That's for having me drugged."

Dean slowly turned his head back to me and reset his jaw. "Where's Sam?"

"Come on." I grumbled, moving in the direction of where I left Sam behind. "Why did you say someone killed me?" I asked once we were moving at a brisk pace. It would only take us a few minutes to make it back the mile or so to the younger Winchester.

"What? No, not you. Lee, Lee Chambers. You 'killed' Lee. He was my partner, remember?" Dean said, scanning the trees for any signs of Sam.

"Oh, so… I get it. I 'killed' Lee and you were mad about it. Monster you was mad about it." I said.

"Yeah. How did you know so quick how to kill us, anyway? I figured Lee would go harass you two for a couple nights before you got it right, but it was one and done." Dean said, holding a branch out of my way as we went through some particularly dense trees.

"Honestly? Lucky guess. I was holding the fake silver knife when he attacked. I thought it was real." I said, eyeing our path into the foliage up ahead. "I thought he was really a monster."

"Test worked then. And it don't matter how you pass, so long as you kill the monsters and the civilian makes it out okay." Dean said.

"Why didn't you come after us yourself?" I asked, letting a little hurt show through in my tone.

"I had to take care of a couple things after I set Lee on your trail." Dean said, pulling ahead.

"What things?" I asked. "What was so pressing that you had to sic another hunter on us?"

"You'll see later." He said shortly. I knew I wouldn't get any more out of him.

"Were you there the first night?" I asked, wondering if I was imagining the scent of leather or not.

"Yeah, I saw you go back to your campsite. I was parked in a tree with binoculars." Dean said.

My skin crawled. He'd been watching us the whole time? How much had he seen? Sam and I didn't do anything suggestive out in the open… did we? I couldn't remember as the rush of blood filled my cheeks.

"Where'd you go after you set up?" Dean asked, glancing back at me as I followed him.

"A stream. Wanted to wash off." I said.

Dean chuckled. "Things get a little too hot for you two?"

If my cheeks had been red before, my whole head was now.

"By the way, I couldn't see you two once the sun set. I just waited until I knew you'd both be sleeping before I called Lee out and showed him where your camp was."

So he hadn't seen us at the steam, or after we had dinner. My blush faded a lot after that realization. He hadn't seen anything incriminating. As far as he knew, Sam and I were still as separate as east and west. "Lee followed us the whole way, then?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah. He reported back after you 'killed' him and I went out to finish the job. Lost you for a while, figured you'd head back to the meeting place soon enough. Actually, I never saw you two, just heard you running and followed the sound." Dean said.

"So… what were you guys enacting? I'd never seen fangs like that. Or heard of a monster that looked like a man, had fangs, and made people sleepy." I said, pressing a hand against the skinned part of my back to stop the bleeding.

"Ever heard of Vetala?" Dean asked.

"No… no. That's not one that Bobby told me about." I said as I racked my brain for the name.

"Figures. They're kinda rare. Hindu spirits that inhabit corpses. Kill 'em with a silver blade to the heart and one strong twist. They work in pairs, have two sets of fangs, have four pupils. Like to hunt in forests, cemeteries, anywhere they can single humans out to feed on. Kinda like vampires but they can't turn humans, and they kill the people after three or four feedings. Death by exsanguination. I hunted one while Sam was at college. Had to go back and get the other one later, when I realized they go two by two." Dean said. "How much further?"

"He's just up past that oak there." I said, pointing a few hundred yards ahead of us.

"How bad is it? You just said he was hurt." Dean said.

"He fell, broke his wrist. Scraped up his palms. One's infected and he has a fever. He's been getting worse since it started yesterday." I said quickly. "He asked for a break and I told him I'd scout up ahead."

Dean broke into a brisk jog and I fell in line behind him, struggling to keep up. Sam was in view now, slumped against the tree, not moving much. My stomach dropped.

"Sam?" Dean yelled as we approached, his tone reflecting my growing panic.

Sam startled awake and looked up to see us with hazy eyes, his good hand moving to block the dim sunlight that broke through the trees. Dean dropped to his knees beside his brother and rested one hand on Sam's shoulder while the other was pressed to his forehead.

"Dean?" Sam drew away from his brother's touch and flinched, moving his arms to protect himself. Suddenly, he grabbed Dean with his good hand and shouted to me. "Ali, run-"

"Sam, it's okay. He's not pretending anymore. He's just Dean now." I said, kneeling on Sam's other side. "He's not going to hurt us."

Sam looked at me in confusion before looking back to Dean and blinked a few times. "Dean?"

"It's me, Sam. How's your arm? Heard you took a fall." Dean said, withdrawing his hand from Sam's grasp, but leaving the other on his brother's shoulder.

"It hurts. Nothing I can't handle." Sam said weakly. "Did she pass the combat test?"

"Yeah." Dean motioned to the slight red blotch on his leather jacket. "Luckily, unlike the real stuff, this goop washes out."

"Good." Sam said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the tree. His breathing was getting more labored as we spoke.

"Sam, you okay?" I asked after a few seconds.

"Did he hurt you?" Sam asked, not lifting his head or opening his eyes.

"No." I lied. Dean glanced at me and the thin red line showing through a slice in my shirt, but said nothing. "Let's get you out of here." I wound my arm under his shoulder and was about to ask Dean to help me when Sam lifted his head and pushed Dean away with his bandaged arm. He grimaced at the action, but it only made Dean move away all the more quickly.

"Sam-" Dean started to protest.

"No, Dean. I'm not letting you fail her because of me and my stupid mistake." Sam said with a hint of anger in his tone.

"What?" I asked, confused. "What's going on now?"

"If I don't walk out of here on my own two feet, you fail. You wouldn't have saved the civilian. You can help me, but I have to be walking when we get to safety." Sam said, looking up at me with pained eyes. "That's the way it works."

I looked up at Dean with renewed frustration. "You didn't tell me that."

Dean shrugged like a scolded child. "I didn't tell you this was a test either."

"But it is, and you'd have failed me for breaking a rule I didn't know about."

"Yes." Dean said simply. He made no move to further explain himself and I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

"Come on, Sam. Time to go home." I said, pulling with all my strength to help him up. Once on his feet, he was unsteady to say the least. I ended up supporting a lot of his weight as well as keeping both of us upright. His footing was terrible. The mile to the car was exhausting; we almost fell a couple times, Dean right behind us ready to catch Sam if we went down.

"Is that- is that blood on that tree?" Sam asked as we stumbled past the tree Dean had pinned me against just minutes ago. I hadn't realized that my back was bleeding that bad. Sure, it hurt a lot; the skinned patch was crying out and burning hot, taking as much of my attention as I would let it, but I didn't think it had bled that much. The tree had been stained with my blood just after a few seconds of leaning against it earlier.

"Probably just sap." I said quickly, pushing past it. Sam planted his feet, forcing me to either stop or risk him falling. Needless to say, I stopped and sighed in frustration.

"Whose blood?" Sam asked as Dean went to inspect the tree. He looked as concerned as Sam did when his eyes met mine. I looked away quickly and tried to pull Sam back into forward motion. I had no luck.

Dean came up behind me and touched the red blotch on my jacket. I gasped lightly. His suspicions confirmed, he lifted my shirt and jacket, revealing the skinned patch of bleeding flesh that I was sure would make a nasty scab later. I couldn't even swat him away; Sam would fall. The oldest Winchester sighed and replaced the clothing after a brief inspection.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked.

"Hypocrite." I growled, tugging Sam into motion. I'm not sure what finally made him move, whether the tone of my voice or the confirmation that I had been hurt, but Sam let me move him. We made it back to the Impala without falling.

Quickly, I opened the passenger side door and set Sam inside as gently as I could. He groaned as I helped him get his feet inside before closing the door. Before I turned to address Dean, Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back, relief flooding his features.

"You passed. Congraduatio-"

I landed one strong fist against Dean's shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards. "Don't say it, jerk. Just get him to a hospital." With a huff, I opened the back door and got in, slamming it shut.

"Guess the ball breaker wasn't enough punishment, was it? Li-"

"Hospital." I growled, not looking at Dean as he stood outside my door. The hunter sighed and got in the driver's seat, glancing at me in the mirror. I glared at him and quickly turned to stare out my window.

 _I hope I bleed all over your precious leather._ I thought with some devious pleasure.

"We're not going to the hospital." Dean said, turning in his seat. I heard Sam groan and pout. "Don't be a baby. Cas?"

Suddenly Cas was right beside me, like he'd been there the whole time. I jumped, sending burning pain through my back at the motion. "I'm still here, Dean." Cas said.

"Wanna fix Sam up for me? Broke his arm." Dean said, motioning to Sam. "Got a fever too."

"You said there would only be minor lacerations incurred on this venture." Cas said, his eyes narrowing.

"That was the plan but Sammy here's a bit of an improv guy." Dean said.

"He's asleep." Cas said. Sam breathing had become deeper and much more even, his tense body relaxing as he sat in his seat.

"He's passed out. Just fix him, let him sleep." Dean said, obvious impatience and concern in his tone. Cas leaned forward and pressed two fingers to Sam's forehead. A bright blue light flashed from under the digits before Cas nearly fell into my lap. I caught his shoulder and helped him sit upright, but he looked exhausted. The change was dramatic from what he'd looked like just moments ago.

Sam didn't move a muscle.

"Cas, you okay?" I asked, steadying him.

"I- I'm sorry." Cas said, pressing his hands to his head and hissing lightly as he inhaled. "I fixed the radius, and most of the C. perfringens is gone now, but I couldn't- I couldn't keep going and stay awake." He took a couple breaths before dropping his hands and looking to Dean. "I'm sorry. I'm weaker than I thought I was."

"It's okay, Cas. You good now?" Dean asked, concern thick in his tone. "You don't need to be comatose for another week."

"I will recover." Cas said, as he looked to me.

"I'm fine, Cas." I said with a forced smile. "I just want to go home already." The opportunity to glare at Dean was seized and he frowned at me before starting the car and pulling away from the forest.

I groaned a few minutes into our silent journey. "We left all that stuff in the woods." I said, running my fingers through my tangled, filthy hair. I dreaded the thought of having to go back in there with Dean – since Sam was apparently still sick – to get the junk back. I was pissed enough as it was. At the moment, all I wanted to do was get as far away from Dean as possible while still being within the safety of the bunker walls.

"I'll send Chambers out to get it later. Don't worry about it." Dean said, this time not looking at me in the mirror.

The rest of our ride was silent. Dean didn't even put a cassette in. I was kind of grateful; exhaustion had set in as soon as that familiar rumble of the engine started up. The lull of the road, the comfort of the seats, and the way Dean turned up the warm air all had me nodding off before we even got out of the trees and onto the highway. My head rested next to Sam's as I finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep leaning against the front bench.

* * *

 **A/N: Leave me a review! Please please please! Let me know what you like or what you want to see in future chapters! See you next week.**


	16. Be Safe

**A/N: Vivi here! Surprise! A Wednesday posting! I wrote this out a few days ago and I really wanted to post it, so I figured you'd enjoy reading it. Don't hate me too much when you finish it though...**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _The rest of our ride was silent. Dean didn't even put a cassette in. I was kind of grateful; exhaustion had set in as soon as that familiar rumble of the engine started up. The lull of the road, the comfort of the seats, and the way Dean turned up the warm air all had me nodding off before we even got out of the trees and onto the highway. My head rested next to Sam's as I finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep leaning against the front bench._

* * *

I woke up on my side, buried deep in a mound of soft blankets and pillows.

 _I must've slept like a rock. Crazy dream…_ I thought lazily as I rolled onto my back.

I groaned, immediately moving back onto my side. _Not a dream._ The chunk I lost out of my back screamed at me for disturbing it, and something sticky was attached to the skin around it.

Slowly, I sat up and greedily gulped down the glass of water I found at my bedside. I didn't remember getting out of the Impala or going to bed. Or getting a glass of water. Or… taking off my shirt, but not my undershirt or muddy jeans.

Or bandaging my chest, back, and feet.

My curiosity spiked, I stood and felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. _At least it isn't morning sickness._ I thought bitterly before softening and absently rubbing my belly. _You'll be worth it, little one. Don't mind my grumbling._ I grabbed my polka dot robe and bundled up before heading out.

I went to the kitchen first. Nobody there. Not even coffee brewing. The little digital display on Bobby's new coffee machine read out that it was nine thirty in the morning.

Nine thirty? I'd slept that late? Dean _let_ me sleep that late?

 _What's going on?_ I thought, my mind filled with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, bitterness, confusion, anxiety, a deep-seated need to find the guys and make sure they were still okay…

And they were. Finally, I found them in the library, glued to their laptops.

"Sleeping beauty awakens." Dean said as he looked up at me and smiled. I glared at him and stopped, crossing my arms.

"Morning Ali." Sam said, looking up from his laptop with a smile much less aggravating than Dean's.

"Morning Sam." I replied, choosing to ignore Dean. "What're you up to?" Taking a seat next to Sam, I peered over to check out his screen. It was the Sioux Falls newspaper.

"We're hoping to get Bobby back in his house soon." Sam said.

"If we don't find anything weird in the lit search, we'll leave tomorrow morning. Take the place back before the day's out." Dean said.

"So where is Bobby?" I asked Sam.

"Out. Supply run." Sam said, absently rubbing the gauze that was wrapped around his palm.

"We needed an audio recorder and more silver bullets." Dean said. Ignoring him was not easy; his presence was commanding of attention and always had been. He always had that air about him. And he knew he was being ignored. He just didn't seem to care all that much.

I nodded at Sam and was quiet for a few minutes while they typed away at their computers. Cas came in just as I was about to stand and get something to eat. "Hey Cas." I smiled, happy to see my friend in good repair after yesterday.

"Good morning Allison." Cas said, yawning. I noticed he was wearing sweats and a tee shirt; not his usual style.

"What's with the get-up?" I asked, motioning to the new duds.

"I was told that rest is easier to attain in this attire than in my coat and slacks." Cas said with a yawn. "Dean was right."

"You slept?" I asked, worried once again.

"Only for an hour. I'm feeling better today. My grace seems to be recovering much more quickly than it has in the past few weeks." Cas said.

"Good." I said, hesitating to ask my burning question. It slipped off my lips before I could take it back. "Cas, did you carry me to bed yesterday?"

Sam looked up in confusion, glancing between me and Cas before his gaze slid to Dean. He quickly returned his attention to his laptop.

"No. Dean and I brought Sam in. He told me to rest while he brought you in. You were half asleep when he and I bandaged your wounds on the futon. Then he carried you to your room. I thought you would remember that." Cas said, glancing momentarily at Dean before looking back to me.

"I don't." I said quietly, stealing a guilty glance at Dean. "Thanks for patching me up, Cas."

"Dean did most of the work. I just got the tape ready." Cas shrugged as he went to sit at the next table where a stack of books was already present. Seeing that I had nothing more to say, he flipped open a tome and was soon dead to the world.

"We need to change those bandages." Dean said pointedly. "They'll be soiled by now."

I hunched my shoulders in frustration and walked out of the library and into the kitchen. Sitting at the table, I let my forehead rest on my arms and stewed in the waves of moodiness that seemed to roll off my shoulders. After a few minutes, I heard footsteps enter the kitchen.

"You okay?" Sam asked, taking a seat across from me.

"No." I grumbled, not lifting my head.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Dean's a jerk." I whined, feeling like a bratty kid even though I was fully justified in my anger.

"Sometimes, yeah." Sam said. "But deep down he's a jerk who cares what happens to the ones he loves. He patched you up and made sure you got to bed safely-"

"He drugged me, lied to me, and cut me, Sam." I said, finally looking up, my eyes clouded with anger. "I wouldn't need patching up if he hadn't cut me."

Sam frowned. "He actually cut you? Drew blood?"

I sighed and carefully pulled back my robe. The long, thin line was covered by an equally long strip of gauze held down by several strips of medical tape. Dean had been right, as much as I hated to admit it. There was red showing through on the gauze, indicating that a change was past due.

Sam seemed confused. "He… did that?"

"That's what I'm saying." I covered back up and grimaced as the robe caught on the bandage on my back.

"Did he get you anywhere else?"

"No, he only broke skin there." I said, rolling my eyes as I admitted my shortcoming. "I'm the one who sliced my back open."

"Did he hurt you anywhere else?" Sam rephrased his question.

I hesitated. _Why is he so curious all of a sudden?_ I wondered, my eyes narrowing. "He strangled me up against a tree. That's when I cut my back." I said quietly, slowly. "There aren't any bruises though-"

"He- he strangled you?" Sam asked, gaping. "Like cut off all airflow strangled, or pressed his hands against your neck strangled?"

"Cut off all airflow." I said, setting my face into a hard shield. No way was I showing Sam how much it hurt me emotionally to have to admit my failures or the fact that Dean had actually turned on me. If I'd been just a little faster, paid a little more attention, I never would've gotten strangled and I wouldn't have a skinned patch the size of a baseball on my back right now.

Sam stood without warning and left the kitchen in a hurry. I followed quickly behind him and grabbed his arm just before he got to the library. He turned to face me. "He can't just do that to you." Sam hissed.

"Let me fight my own fights, Sam." I said sternly. "I appreciate you wanting to protect me, really, I do. Just let me handle this on my own. You have enough to worry about." Gently, I lifted his palm and felt the heat radiating off of it. "Cas didn't fix the whole infection, did he?"

"No." Sam said, his steam lost. Slowly, he scrubbed his face and shrugged. "We found some antibiotics in the med kit. Cas said they'd work until he can clear it out."

"Good." I held his hand for a few more seconds before replacing it at his side. "But the bone is healed?"

"Yeah." He rolled his wrist to prove his point.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired. The fever's a lot lower now. I'm not dehydrated anymore. Just… tired." Sam said. "I woke up a couple minutes before you did… Hey, why didn't Cas heal you first? He could've fixed your cuts no problem."

"Dean and I wanted you to be okay. I didn't even think of fixing me. Cas was spent before my little nicks even came to mind." I shrugged. "I'll live. It's nothing I haven't had before."

"It pisses me off that you have anything to heal in the first place." Sam said, his expression as angry and guarded as mine. "He had no right to do that."

"No shit, Sherlock." I said, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms. "But I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

Sam frowned and sighed. "Anything I can do?"

"Go relax. You said you were still tired. Take care of yourself for a change." I said, smiling gently.

"We have work to do." Sam said. "Research on omens near Bobby's house. Weird things around Sioux Falls. Y'know, that sort of thing, so we know what we're up against before we go charging in there."

"It's always go-go-go with you Winchesters, isn't it?" I said, sighing. "Fine. Fill me in."

Sam caught me up- it didn't take long- and we made our way into the library, both of us glaring at Dean as we sat down. The oldest Winchester looked offended. "What, did I sprout another head?"

Sam ignored him and continued working on his laptop with a scowl etched on his face. I tried to do the same, but the anger was building in my belly and I started to regret my decision to sit at the same table as Dean. _Should've sat with Cas._ I thought, glancing at the angel at the next table.

Dean spoke and only made my frustration worse. "Seriously, why am I getting the cold shoulder here? I feel like the toenail in the potato salad."

"Ask Ali." Sam said without looking up at his brother.

"Li?" Dean asked, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms like I was a child with some explaining to do.

"You know why I'm pissed." I said flatly, refusing to look up from the book on demonic omens that I'd found next to Sam.

"Is it because of the test?" Dean asked, his tone hinting at how tired he was of hearing about the tests.

"Oh, ding ding ding. Give the boy a cookie." I said bitterly, setting the bitch face on him.

"Look, Princess, I did what I had to do to prep you for the real world. Just because you didn't like it doesn't make it any less effective." Dean snapped, his frustration rising to match my own.

"You freaking strangled me, drugged me, and cut me!" I shouted, standing. My chair toppled behind me, making a loud clatter. "You could've killed me!"

This time it was Dean who glared. "I had complete control of the situation."

"Yeah, until I stabbed you with that fake knife. Did you have control then? What if you had accidentally sent that bowie knife through my stomach, huh? What if you crushed my windpipe? What if Sam didn't find the medication patch on my neck soon enough and I fell into a coma? Would you have had control then, jerk?" I said loudly, ignoring as Cas and Sam stared at the unfolding altercation.

"What's with you lately?" Dean asked, trying to change the subject. "Why are you so on edge all the time?"

"Don't change the subject." I growled.

"Then answer the question." Dean said.

"I'm not on edge."

"Yes, you are. Ever since that book hit your head."

I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes. "Forget the book, Dean. The book didn't do anything."

"Then is it the soul thing?" Dean asked, his eyes flitting to Cas and back to me quickly.

"I told you to leave that alone too." I said, crossing my arms.

"Well it's gotta be something, Li. You haven't been yourself for weeks and it's freaking me out. You're testy one minute and then you're crying- Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Dean asked, true concern and suspicion alight in his eyes. I met his gaze with eyes that screamed of a crossed line.

 _Shit. He has clearly seen the signs. I thought I was being so careful. Mental note: try harder to hide morning sickness and mood swings. Unless I just… I mean, I could tell them. Dean can't fail me now, I already passed all the tests. But he'd keep me from going out with them. I'd be a bunker nerd anyway._ My skin crawled. _I do not want to be a bunker nerd. Alone for weeks at a time, nose stuck in a book, getting rounder and rounder all by myself in this hobbit hole. No way I could live like that. Although I'm sure I could find a way to follow them on cases. What's the worst they could do? Tie me down?_

"Why do you keep accusing me of being pregnant?" I snapped. "Stop bringing it up. I could accuse you of being an alcoholic but I don't."

"Alright, listen-"

"No, Winchester. You listen to me. You really hurt me in that forest and for what? Some stupid test that I had to pass? That you _said_ I had to pass? I could've just trailed you guys on jobs and there would be nothing you could do about it. You know why? Because I'm my own person and I don't have to live under your thumb all the time!" I shouted. "Get it through your thick skull that I'm not a kid and I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm an ex-doctoral student whose family was killed by a demon which we currently have locked in a box in the storage room. I live with my past every day and I don't need to be babied over it. Stop treating me like I'm any less capable than you are."

"Guys…" Sam said softly. He was probably trying to stop the fight. Who he was protecting, I had no idea.

"You _are_ less capable than us, Princess. In case you didn't realize, we've been doing this shit our whole lives. You were practically comatose for five months after that demon attacked. But I guess that makes you _just_ as capable as us, doesn't it? Oh, and a couple weeks of training must equal years of experience and pain and trial-by-fire, right?" Dean snapped, his voice growing in volume with each hurtful remark.

"Dean, cool it-" Sam tried to butt in.

"If you didn't want me to go with you in the first place then why even train me?" I asked bitterly. "Seems like a waste of time if you all you wanted was for me to fail so I couldn't drag you down."

"Believe me when I say that if I didn't want you to go with us, you just wouldn't. Period. We'd find a way to keep you here." Dean said.

"So you'd lock me in my own little tower to protect me, huh?" I stared him down.

"If it meant keeping you alive? Hell yes. But don't go making yourself out to be a princess, Li." Dean growled. "I needed to know you'd be ready for whatever the hell this fucked up world could send at us. I'm not putting you on a pedestal, I'm keeping you out of the ground."

"I don't need to be protected, Dean."

"We all need to be protected, Li. Why do you think 'safety in numbers' is a thing? Lone wolves don't last long in our kind of work." Dean said.

I rolled my eyes and snorted. "Oh, don't make yourself out to be all high and mighty. Your head will get so big you won't be able to walk through doors. I'd never relied on another person until I lived here and you _forced_ me to rely on you. If I had to, I could hunt alone. I could make a life for myself, alone." I said. That was the plan, after all. Once I started to show, or they came too close to figuring the pregnancy out, I was going to leave. Leave, and never look back. Raise the kid on my own. Let them keep saving lives without being weighed down by another needy soul.

"Li, that's not what I'm saying-"

"Can it, dude. I'm done." I snapped, shaking my head as I left the library and went to my room. Angry tears were forming in my eyes and my hands started to shake as I trudged down the hall. Footsteps followed me and I blinked back the embarrassing tears. "I don't wanna talk, Sam."

"Then talk to me." Dean said, reaching out and stopping me just before I went into my room. He turned me around, probably expecting some sort of teary apology. I saw Sam coming down the hall behind Dean and rolled my eyes. Of course both of them would see me after a fight with tears puddling in my big bright doe eyes.

"No." I ducked into my room and slammed the door, leaning against it in the dark.

From the other side of the door, I heard a short conversation unfold. "I can't do this." Dean said bitterly. "I'm going out."

"Dean, Bobby's house-"

"Change the bandages. Both of you. And don't wait up tonight. I'll be back eventually." Dean said, his voice already far down the hall.

I heard Sam sigh deeply and moments later, the Impala was fired up. It tore out of the garage and the sound of the engine faded quickly. Sam stood outside my door for a few minutes, but he never knocked. Slow footsteps retreated as I sank to the floor against my door and let the silent, angry tears fall unimpeded, hidden by the deep, subterranean darkness.

When the tears dried up, I rested the back of my head on the door. I was at an utter loss as to what I should think anymore. _Why did I do all his tests? Waste of time._ I told myself. _Could've just followed them. Tagged along. They'd have seen how well I can handle myself after a few jobs._

Slowly, a frown spread across my face. _But… I guess I have done a few jobs with them already. Or, with Sam at least. Saving Dean… got mauled by a Wendigo._ I ran my hand absently over the ridges on my shoulder. _Hunting that witch Fisher… got shot._ The bullet graze on my thigh itched at the thought. _Got myself kidnapped and possessed… almost killed all three of the guys._ Flash images of Dean hitting the wall at a motel, Sam getting his leg popped out of place, Cas unconscious on a filthy mattress- _No wonder they don't trust me to take care of myself. I can barely keep from getting killed._

But that was before my training.

Before Dean and Sam trained me.

They didn't lock me down here, or ban me from joining them. They'd agreed to train me. And they stayed with me until the training was done.

They didn't leave me alone. They knew how much I hated being alone and they made an effort to make me feel… respected. All Dean's harsh comments just made me strive harder to complete the tasks set before me. If he hadn't been so against me, I might have- as much as I hate to admit it- given up on several occasions. By making himself the object of my anger, he'd knowingly given me something to pull strength from.

It made sense now. He didn't want me to fail. In fact, he'd said on _several_ occasions that he wanted me to go with them. He just wanted me to be ready for the work I'd have to put in. _And I thought he was just saying that to cool me down and avoid a fight._

So much for that.

I felt the annoying tingle of a drop of teary snot about to fall and I stood, flicking on the light to locate my box of tissues. Once the situation was under control, I sat on my bed and stewed this time in my regret.

 _I shouldn't have yelled at Dean._ I thought, frowning down at the tissue in my hands. _Stupid mood swings._ _Sometimes I really want to tell them about you, sweet pea. You're getting harder to hide even being… how big are you now?_ I paused and thought for a moment, trying to remember the cute comparisons we learned in medical school during our OB/GYN block of classes. _Four weeks is a poppy seed, five weeks is an apple seed, six weeks is a sweet pea, seven weeks is… Oh. I guess you're blueberry size now. My goodness, love, you sure are making a lot of changes for being that little. It's like they can see right through me._ I tossed the tissue in the trash and jumped a bit.

In the chair on the other side of my room, next to the trash can, was a box wrapped in newspaper. I stood and cautiously approached the little square. _How long as that been there?_ I wondered. _It wasn't there when we left for the beach…_

On top, there was a note folded in half with my name on it. I unfolded the paper and read the words scrawled in a familiar handwriting.

 _Li,_

 _Sam mentioned something about you wanting a pink gun._

 _Seriously?_

 _Just promise you'll only use it if you have to, as a last resort._

 _Be safe._

 _-Dean_

My hand went to cover my mouth as my jaw fell open. The note started shaking in my hand and I dropped it, resting the hand on the box instead. Inside, I found a discreet holster with a label that said it was specially designed to sit at the natural waist; great for concealed carry. Another holster that was for the thigh sat right under the first. Both black. Then, I saw it.

It was elegant, it was sleek, and above all, it was _pink_. Sure, the handle and trigger were matte black, but the barrel was hot pink, and shone in the light. It seemed to sparkle; the paint had some shimmer to it. This gun- _my_ gun- was perfect.

And Dean wasn't even here for me to thank him. He had literally walked out on us.

"Today is not a good day, champ." I muttered as I set the gun back inside the box, on top of several boxes of ammunition that I'd just noticed in the bottom. Running a hand through my hair, I tried to figure out what to do next.

A few minutes later, I sat anxiously on the edge of my bed. "Urgh!" I growled into the receiver of my little flip phone.

"This is Dean's other, other cell so, you must know what to do." Dean's voicemail on his last cell phone greeted me. It wasn't like him to ignore my calls. Then again, it wasn't like him to leave in anger either. I closed my phone and threw it at my pillow where it landed with a less than satisfying plop.

"Guess I'll just go help with the research then." I grumbled, reluctantly picking the phone up before trudging out to the library. Sam, Cas, and now Bobby were hard at work researching whatever they had been before I blew up in front of them.

"Ali, mind helping me page through the police reports?" Sam asked when he saw me standing hesitantly in the doorway.

"Sure." My voice was small and unsure as I glanced at Cas, knowing he'd be frustrated by me dodging another direct pregnancy question. He was still absorbed in a book, a new book this time, from his stack.

The day went by fast. Sam went out and got us lunch and when the time came, Bobby offered to 'rustle up some grub' for dinner. It was close to midnight before I finished wading through the last several months of police reports in Sioux Falls and the surrounding areas and it was one a.m. before Bobby declared that the mission tomorrow could go on as planned. The research crew was disbanded shortly thereafter, each heading to his or her own quarters.

"G'night, Ali. Good work today." Sam said, stopping outside his room.

I snorted humorlessly as I continued down the hall, past Dean's room, to get to my own. "You're funny. Good night, Sam."

I heard a soft hiss from behind me and turned quickly. Sam had his infected hand held close to his chest. Apparently he'd tried to open his door with it.

"Have you changed that bandage yet, Sam?" I asked softly.

He looked down at his palm for a moment. "No. I kinda… forgot."

"Go get settled in. I'll get the med kit." I said, squeezing his arm as I passed him on my way to the storage closet. By the time I got back to his room, the door was closed but I could hear pages being turned. I knocked quietly.

"Yeah?" Sam called.

I opened the door and closed it behind me. "Is everything you guys own plaid?" I asked with an amused smirk.

Sam glanced down at his plaid pajama pants before motioning to the black tee he wore. "This isn't."

I rolled my eyes and set the med kit on his bed. "The one exception. Sit down for me." Sam sat and I unwrapped the gauze on his hands before inspecting the wounds. The palm that hadn't been torn open was looking good; only a light bruise remained. However, the infected palm still had a dark bruise, lots of angry red swelling, and plenty of yellowish pus seeping out of the lacerations.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked, kneeling in front of him to clean the wound out.

"Yeah, but not as much." Sam said, watching me as I worked. "The cuts aren't too deep."

"Do you still have a fever?" I asked, glancing at his face for a moment. It was slightly flushed; either he still had a fever or he was embarrassed about something.

"I think so. I've been taking aspirin but I missed the last dose. Forgot." He shrugged and winced as I got a particularly juicy glob of pus from the edge of a cut. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Depends how high it is." I replied, smearing some antibiotic, analgesic cream on the angry looking flesh before wrapping fresh white gauze around it.

"I've had worse." Sam said.

"The other one doesn't need to be covered anymore." I said, standing. I packed up the med kit and gingerly palmed Sam's forehead. Not a low fever, but not life-threatening. "I'll get you some aspirin."

"Fine, but we need to change your bandages too." Sam said with a yawn. "So they don't get infected."

"Okay. Sit tight." I said as I left the room. The aspirin from the kitchen was obtained, as well as a glass of water, before I returned and found Sam sound asleep, sprawled sideways on his bed. He was even snoring. "I can change my own." I whispered with an understanding smile. I left the pills and water on his nightstand and took the med kit before shutting off the light. Sleep would do him good.

I plopped the med kit down on my bed and changed into a pair of sweat pants and a loose tee. I realized with a smirk that it was one of Sam's, one he'd outgrown.

Now, all alone in my room once again, the box on my chair was like a sign reminding me of the day's failures. I picked up the note from where I'd dropped it on the floor and read it over again.

 _Be safe._

I sighed and looked over the handwriting. I could tell he'd written it quickly, with a pen that wasn't working quite well enough. The paper had a funny feeling to it too, and it was kind of wrinkled. I turned it over in my hand and saw that it was a receipt from the gun store where he'd purchased my handgun. It was dated two days ago. _He went out after he showed Lee our camp and bought me a gun._ I realized with a wave of surprise. _He thought I'd need to use a gun, which means… He really thought I'd pass._

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed his number one more time, only to reach voicemail.

"Dammit, Dean." I whispered to myself. No way was I going to bed knowing I'd screwed up so royally that the overly-protective Winchester wouldn't answer my calls. I threw the phone into my pillow yet again and went out to the garage to see if maybe he'd come back and I just hadn't heard.

He wasn't back. The Impala was still gone.

I kicked the tire of the only car we had left and sat on the hood. _What now?_ I asked myself. The bunker was chilly, and the garage was even colder, but for some reason I decided to camp out and wait for Dean. I grabbed a blanket from my room and sat against the windshield of the car I'd kicked.

What would I even say when he came back? _I'm sorry I blew up in your face. That gun is really nice. What did the guy say when you bought it?_ I smirked at that one. _Why didn't you answer my calls? I couldn't sleep and I was worried about you. Sammy still has a fever. I changed his bandages. There was nothing weird in Sioux Falls, so we'll head out tomorrow like you said._

I sighed and rested my head against the glass behind me, staring at the ceiling. _You were right, Dean. I'm moody and irritable and queasy because I'm pregnant. Please don't be mad. How did you know?_

But of course, there was no way I was gonna tell Dean about the baby. Sam either, for that matter. Unless absolutely necessary, they'd never know.

 _It would just be so much easier if they knew…_

* * *

 **A/N: Leave a review! I love hearing from you guys; always makes me smile! See you Saturday!**


	17. Bandages, Backlash, and Broadcasts

**A/N: Vivi here! Happy Saturday! Sorry this chapter might be a little disjointed. It was supposed to be two or three chapters but they were too short, so I lumped them together. Anyway, in this chapter Ali and Cas talk a little about the first few weeks she was at the bunker. If you're curious to read about how she got to the bunker, I've written out a story called Saving Allison, which tells about how Cas found her and why he brought her to the Winchesters. I'd love if you read it and left a review! Now, please enjoy the latest chapter of Family Practice, titled**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _I sighed and rested my head against the glass behind me, staring at the ceiling. You were right, Dean. I'm moody and irritable and queasy because I'm pregnant. Please don't be mad. How did you know?_

 _But of course, there was no way I was gonna tell Dean about the baby. Sam either, for that matter. Unless absolutely necessary, they'd never know._

It would just be so much easier if they knew…

* * *

My ears registered a sudden silence; I hadn't realized the loud sound was there until it was gone. "Hey, you okay? I called-" A voice broke the silence.

I tried to roll over and find a more comfortable position; I wanted so badly to go back to sleep. I couldn't really understand what the voice was saying. Probably just Sam talking to Dean outside my door…

 _Thud._

"Ahh…" I breathed in pain, wincing at the pain erupting in my shoulder and head.

"Li?" The voice was accompanied by rapid footsteps as I reeled from falling off of the car. I remembered everything as I looked up at the ceiling and tried in vain to untangle myself from the blanket. A familiar face leaned over me. Dean knelt at my side and pulled me into a sitting position, unwrapping the blanket as my shoulder throbbed. _At least my tattoo isn't pulling._ I thought bitterly. _That would just be the icing on today's cake._

"Hi Dean." I said, my voice thick from sleep and pain.

"No signal in Smith. I called you as soon as I saw that you called me. What's wrong?" He asked as he pulled the blanket away from me and let go. I pulled in a deep breath and noted that there was hardly any alcohol smell coming off of him. _He kept the limit we asked._ I thought in amazement. I stood slowly and rubbed my shoulder.

"I'm fine." I said, not looking directly at him as guilty tears filled my eyes. _Should've just gone to bed. I'm gonna cry myself to bunker nerd status if I stay out here much longer._

He must've seen the tears in my eyes. "How's the shoulder?"

I sniffed more loudly than I meant to. "I'll live." A small shiver ran down my spine, irritating my already sore wound. "Dean, I was wrong-"

He held up a hand and stopped me. "Were you waiting up on me?" He asked, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders before taking a step back.

I sniffed back the teary snot that was forming and looked to the floor, nodding slowly. Blush colored my cheeks. We were quiet for a few seconds. "That gun is really nice. What did the guy say when you bought it?" I asked quietly, trying to change the subject.

Dean smiled, just a little. "Told me I must have a beautiful woman under my arm, one I wanted to keep there. I tried to convince him it was for my macho little brother but he saw right through me." He shrugged. "What do you think?"

I huffed a laugh and sniffed again. "It's perfect." I looked up at him with a small smile. "Thank you."

His eyes softened. "Let's get to bed. It's late." Hesitantly, he lifted his arm and hesitantly, I shuffled under it. No apologies needed.

We stopped outside my door and Dean moved to stand in front of me as he spoke. "Somebody change those bandages today?" He asked, a hint of hesitation in his tone, like he was overstepping some dangerous boundary.

"Oh." I'd forgotten about the bandages. Come to think of it, they were starting to burn a little. "No, I changed Sam's but he's still pretty sick. He fell asleep before he could help me with mine." I hung my head a little, knowing that it was just an excuse. I could've done my own bandages; it was just painful and more effort than I was up to doing at the time.

"Weren't you a medical student?" Dean asked sternly. "You know how important changing bandages is. Those have been on for a full day now. You could get an infection. You could get sick."

"I know, I know." I said, running my hand through my hair and finding a goose egg forming where I'd hit my head.

Dean opened my door for me. "Go on. I'll be back in a minute."

"Thanks." My voice was small. It had every right to be. I'd driven him from his home and now he literally had to pick me up off the ground and patch me up.

 _Selfless jerk._ I sniffed my nose and sighed as I shuffled into my room and dropped onto my bed. _No way do I deserve this kind of forgiveness. Not from Dean._

"Knock knock." A quiet voice came from the door frame a few seconds later. I hadn't closed the door, but he still felt the need to ask permission to enter.

"Who's there?" I asked, wishing, hoping he'd make a joke to lighten the mood.

Dean smiled and leaned against the jamb, holding the med kit that I'd used on Sam against his leg. "Doris."

"Doris who?" I asked, a smile already forming in anticipation of his lame punch line.

"Doris locked, that's why I'm knocking."

I laughed a little louder than I should have, considering Sam was sleeping just two doors down. Dean came in and shut the door behind him. I watched as he set about creating a work station, laying out everything he'd need ahead of time so the things in the kit wouldn't get contaminated. "So we didn't find anything weird in Sioux Falls. Bobby gave us the go-ahead to clean his house out tomorrow."

"I know. He called me. He actually left a message, though. You kinda freaked me out when I had four missed calls and no messages." Dean said as he took a seat on the bed behind me. "Mind lifting the back of your shirt for me?"

"Sure." I said, dropping the blanket and pulling up my shirt to reveal the bandage of the skinned patch. "I didn't know what to say. It wasn't right for me to go off on you like that. I'm a rational human, I should be able to keep a level head."

Dean pulled the bandaging off of my back and cleaned the wound. I only winced a few times before he smeared some of the same ointment I'd used on Sam's hand all over the patch. The new gauze felt almost nice as it covered the raw area. It didn't burn anymore. I dropped my shirt once he was done. He got up and came around the bed. His eyes flicked to mine from where he stood before me. "Is it okay if I change the one on your chest?" He asked.

"You did it yesterday, didn't you?" I asked, confused. "Why wouldn't it be okay today?"

"Yesterday you were half-asleep. You didn't know what was going on; you couldn't freak. Today you're fully awake, mostly, and you might have a problem with my hands being close to your neck." Dean said flatly. "I don't wanna poke any bears, y'know?"

"Right." I stammered. "Yeah, no, it's fine." Carefully, I tugged the collar of my tee down, revealing the bandaging that ran from the bottom of my left clavicle to the top of my right.

Dean stood in front of me and reached down to start removing the gauze when I flinched away. I hadn't meant to do it. Fear and anxiety flooded me as soon as his hands approached. I knew my eyes were as wide as saucers when I looked up at him. He took his hands back and, after thinking for a few seconds, knelt in front of me. "Maybe this will help." I nodded weakly, swallowing back the lump that had formed in my throat at the thought of being choked again. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He touched the outsides of my arms first, near my elbow, watching my face as he slowly patted his way up to my shoulders. Seeing no reaction, he set to work removing the gauze that was there, always leaving one hand on my shoulder so I knew where it was and I wouldn't have to flinch at a sudden touch. He made quick work of this cut; it was cleaned, medicated, and covered in just under a minute. The tired hunter put his work station away and snapped the box shut before sitting beside me on my bed with a sigh.

 _Chick flick alert._ I thought momentarily, turning to face him.

"Li, about what happened in the woods… I wasn't right to do that to you. I want you to know- I mean, don't think-"

"Yeah. I'm sorry too." I said softly.

"But I shouldn't have done what I did. It wasn't right." Dean said. "I hurt you. Probably in ways that I can't fix with bandages. Ways that I deal with by drinking and killing things." He looked to the floor, at a loss for words.

"I understand why you did it now." I said slowly. "That doesn't make it okay, but I forgive you. No hard feelings anymore, okay?"

"You can drop this just like that?" Dean looked me in the eye, aghast. "You flinched when I went to change your bandages. For wounds I created."

"Family doesn't end with blood." I said. "Not shared blood, spilled blood, or new blood." _Don't mention the new blood again._ I thought. _That family won't know this family._

"You feelin' okay?" Dean said, pressing a hand to my head. This time, I didn't flinch.

"Yeah, just tired." I smiled, seeing the little spark of humor in his eye.

"Well, we're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Get some rest, Princess." Dean grabbed the medical kit and went to my door.

"You too, jerk." I said with a sleepy smile on my lips. His expression was gentle as he turned out my light and closed the door behind him.

Cas couldn't have picked a better family to plop me into.

* * *

That morning, four hours after I'd closed my eyes, Sam knocked on my door and woke me up. I felt like a wreck; my arm and head ached, I was crazy nauseous, and the way my bandages clung to my skin was driving me crazy. The half hour I was given to get ready flew by in a blur. Sam changed my bandages and I changed his. He told me my shoulder was just bruised, not dislocated, no muscles torn. I threw on some appropriate clothes for the task at hand and packed an overnight bag just in case.

Cas was in the kitchen when I arrived. No matter how bad it smelled, I wanted coffee. There was going to have to be some act of God if I was going to stay awake through the day without it.

"A-Allison." Cas stammered as I made my way to the coffee pot. It was already brewing; I guess Bobby's self-starting machine wasn't all that bad.

"Hmm?" I answered, turning sleepily to look at him as I picked up a white mug.

"The child…" He stood and approached me, looking dumbstruck.

I was instantly on edge. "What about him?"

"The- there are…" The angel held is palms inches from my belly before looking up to me with much less panic in his eyes. "There's nothing wrong. Nevermind."

I stared at him. "What was that all about?"

"A new development. Well, not new per se, but new to me." Cas said quietly. "I really must insist you steer clear of caffeine, Allison. It's dangerous for the pregnancy."

"A little coffee is fine, Cas." I said, turning the mug over and over in my hands. "What's the new development?"

"Seeing as you have my word not to tell Sam and Dean about the pregnancy, I'll have to insist on keeping this from you. I will tell you only once you've told the Winchesters of this pregnancy." Cas said. "They need to know. Perhaps this will be incentive enough to tell them."

"Seriously? It's my kid, Cas. I deserve to know what's going on." I snapped.

"Please discontinue your use of caffeine. The way you are handling this situation of yours is dangerous enough."

I glared at him and clicked the mug back into place next to its companions. "Happy now?"

"I'll be happy once you've told Sam and Dean." Cas said. "I plan to keep my promise but they deserve to know just as much as you do."

"Oh? And why is that?" I asked, absently wondering if Cas knew who the father was.

"They are your friends. Your companions. I believe you've even labeled each other as family. How can they help you if you don't let them know you need help?"

"I don't need help, Cas." I said quietly, glancing at the doorway. "Just let me do this my way."

"Please ensure that 'your way' is the best way for your offspring, Allison. You may not get a second chance." Cas said, matching my volume but adding a tinge of warning to his voice.

"You ladies comin' or what?" Dean popped his head into the kitchen, giving us a confused look as we turned to him.

* * *

It was just the four of us in the Impala. The Winchesters in the front seat and Cas and I in the back. Bobby followed us in his truck. Heavy metal was playing from one of Dean's cassettes but my eyes still drooped. Why they chose to leave so early in the morning was beyond me. It was only a six hour drive. Surely we could have left after lunch and still reclaimed Bobby's house by dinnertime.

But no. It was like five a.m. and Cas had to discretely remind me several times not to buy coffee on our first stop after I'd used the restroom and thought I got away from him. At this point, it was all I could do not to flop down in Cas' lap and snooze the rest of the way there. I let my head rest on the window beside me and closed my eyes. Maybe I could catch a few z's before the action started.

"Allison, do you need anything?" Something was touching my bad shoulder. I winced, breathed deep, and rolled over. There was something warm and squishy under my neck and I was horizontal. _When did that happen?_ My eyes shot open and I saw the roof of the Impala and Cas' face, leaning over his lap to look down at me.

I gasped and hauled myself upright, blood rushing to my cheeks. "Why didn't you wake me up, Cas?" Luckily, Sam and Dean were no longer in the car. We were stopped at what looked to be a small gas station.

"You seemed exhausted. You need the rest." He said. "We still have about an hour to go before we arrive in Sioux Falls."

"Did Sam see? Did Dean?" I demanded, trying to fix my hair.

"Of course. Sam laughed when you fell into my lap and Dean had him take a picture. You've been sleeping like that for almost four hours." Cas said. "Do you need anything? We've stopped for gas."

"Oh great." I muttered into my hands before wiping my face of the drool that had apparently leaked out of my mouth. A pang of nausea hit me hard and I gripped Cas' arm as I tried to hold it back. Suddenly, two fingers tapped my forehead and the sensation was gone. I looked at Cas in shock. "What was that?" I hissed.

"Does your stomach feel better now?" Cas asked. There was a hint of a smile on his face.

I stared at him in wonder and waited a moment before answering. "Yeah, actually. My back and chest too. And my shoulder doesn't ache. What did you do?"

"I healed your injuries and quelled the nausea. I can see that it's been unpleasantly active since your body started experiencing the changes." Cas said. "That was the first time I've worked on you when you were awake, wasn't it?" His smile widened. "I wondered why you seemed so surprised."

"Uh, yeah. I guess I was out cold when you fixed my back and after we got ambushed at the market. Wow, that seems like years ago."

"It was only a few months, Allison." Cas said softly, a dull pain behind his eyes.

"I know. I hardly ever think about it anymore. Hey, didn't you try to work on me right after I arrived at the bunker? I mean, I know you fixed my body after you beat the living shit outta that demon with the tools in that barn, but didn't you try to do something else after that? Something that didn't end up working?" I asked, trying hard to remember that time of my life. I didn't have a lot of memories from then. Mostly crying and sleeping and being scared out of my wits.

"Sam and Dean asked me to see if I could figure out what was wrong with you." Cas said. "Physically, there was nothing. The demonic remnant lingering in your body was so minuscule that I couldn't see it. It must have been difficult for you to live so long with that demon stirring up unpleasant emotions."

"Yeah, it was. Actually, can we not talk about that anymore?" I said quickly, shoving hard at a memory that tried to consume me. "You answered my question. Thank you." I hesitated before continuing. "I'm going to go use the restroom before we take off again."

"I'll just wait here then." Cas said as I got out of the Impala and headed for the counter to ask where the facilities were. I noticed Bobby leaning against his car as it filled up behind us. I waved and he nodded in return.

"The string of murders ending in Minnesota earlier this month have been linked back to Allison Melissa Ligan, the mass murder whose story we covered back in December of last year. Ligan is now responsible for an estimated ninety nine deaths." A news anchor's charismatic voice filled the small shop just as I entered. There was a little TV in the corner that was thankfully being ignored by the cashier. A police officer popped on the screen as soon as the anchor stopped talking.

"We were really shocked to learn she was a medical student. The killings were all so violent. The sooner we get her off the streets, the better. I mean, who knows where she's gonna go next? The murders seem so random-" The officer's audio was cut off and the screen returned to the anchor. There was a large picture of me next to him. It was one of the ones I'd posted online during happier days. I was smiling; you could see Mark's arm around me. They must have cropped the photo.

"If you see this woman, do not approach her. Please call 911 immediately." The photo changed to a freeze frame of security footage from the hotel that Francesca had retreated to after the guys tried to exorcise her in that motel. It was blurry, but it was clearly my body. "For more information, visit our website or . Twelfth graders from a local high school raised five thousand dollars to benefit…" I tuned out after my story was finished.

"Hey lady." The cashier waved his hand in front of my face. I'd come to stand at the counter to listen to the TV and he'd just looked up from his newspaper. "You okay?"

I blinked and looked at him. "Yeah, where's the restroom?"

"Out back. It's unlocked." The man went back to his newspaper. I glanced around the store to see who had heard the story and luckily, it was just Sam and Dean. They exchanged nervous glances as I made my way to relieve myself.

We were back on the road in no time, with Bobby behind us. "So they finally connected it all back to you, huh?" Dean said with an edge of bitterness in his voice. "Took 'em long enough."

"Don't worry too much about it, Ali. Dean and me have been wanted for years and we've never had a situation we weren't able to get out of." Sam said, glancing at me over his shoulder.

"Let's just focus on getting Bobby back in his house." I said shortly, trying to end the conversation. I didn't want to drag any of those memories up and risk them compromising my performance today.

An hour of moody silence later, Dean pulled off the road. Bobby followed suit. Everyone got out and we set to work reviewing our game plan before we pulled into Bobby's drive.

"From what I saw before I left, there was one of me and couple more in suits. Who knows what's in there now." Bobby grumbled. "Better not 'a trashed the place."

"So the plan is for me to scan the building first and see what we're up against. That is assuming there is no angel warding on the house." Cas said, looking pointedly at Bobby.

"Took it down when you fellas arrived so you could come in, Cas. Don't think I armed it again; so long as those creeps haven't added anything, we're golden." Bobby said.

"So you go in, tell us what's in there, and then you, me, and Bobby go through the front door. Sam and Li, you'll go in through the cellar door. Li, stay behind Sam. We'll try to make lots of noise and bring 'em out and you take 'em from behind." Dean said quickly.

"But if they were working for Francesca, shouldn't I be the one who goes in as a distraction?" I asked.

"The demon is no longer inside you, Allison. They will be able to tell that she's gone." Cas said, looking pointedly at me. I rolled my eyes but was grateful that he kept his promise.

"Stick to the plan. I've got an exorcism on a loop if we need it, but that won't help much if there are shifters too." Dean said. "Any questions?"

"Let's get my little slice of heaven back already." Bobby grumbled.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry, it's a little short. But you did get two chapters this week... Leave a review, please!**


	18. Baddies in His Business

**A/N: Vivi here! Welcome back to Family Practice! Please note that this chapter has some scenes of combative violence. Anyway, that's all I have to say at the moment. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Let's get my little slice of heaven back already." Bobby grumbled._

* * *

Everyone got in their cars and we were back on the road. Bobby's driveway came into view within a few minutes. Dean pulled off on the road just before the driveway.

"Stay low, try to keep out of sight." Dean said. Bobby pulled up behind us and Cas disappeared, only to return a moment later in a flutter of wind.

"They've set up angel warding. I can see six individuals from the window. Two shifters and four demons. There appear to be three demons downstairs and one more upstairs. I took the liberty of smiting the demons on patrol in the scrap yard. You shouldn't have any trouble until you get inside." Cas said. He sounded upset. I knew he didn't like being locked out of dangerous situations, especially when his friends were on the line.

"Thanks Cas." Dean said. We exited the vehicles, all of us, and held our weapons ready; the pink stood in stark contrast to the black and silver tools that were readied. I didn't mind. Dean had the demon knife and a gun, Bobby had a fire extinguisher of holy water and a gun, and Sam and I had guns loaded with silver bullets. My new handgun was going to see its first real action.

I quickly went over my own plan in my mind. _Shoot first. Stay behind Sam whenever I can, but watch out for attackers. The demons will be able to see my baby's soul and if they mention it, my cover is blown. Watch for tripping hazards, don't touch any spilled chemicals, be wary of strange smells or things that could poison me or baby. Avoid physical attack at all costs. Protect baby and protect Sam._

"Stay low." Sam said as we ran quietly alongside the house in the overcast afternoon light. Bobby and Dean went for the front door with Cas while Sam and I crouched just outside the cellar entrance. From the way he held his gun, I could tell that Cas had finished healing Sam's infected cuts. One less thing to worry about.

Bobby used his key to unlock the door and we heard he and Dean rush in. Cas stayed outside and guarded the door. From inside the cellar emerged two sets of voices, then footsteps climbing the stairs. We went in.

Sam went first. It was dark and my eyes had to adjust quickly. The musty basement was full of old objects coated in a fine layer of grime and dust. Nothing looked or smelled immediately dangerous. Nothing moved. Sam and I scanned the area, checking any possible hiding places before heading for the stairs. We heard the exorcism loop start, but it suddenly cut out and something shattered on the floor above. Then we heard something big hit the floor. Then something else. Dean was yelling but I couldn't understand him. Sam and I rushed up the stairs and barreled into the hall. Sam glanced at the back door, which was untouched, and then looked into the living room, which was empty of life apparently, because he charged past it and into the kitchen, out of my sight. I could hear loud fighting coming from the kitchen, then a weapon discharge, but as I passed the living room hot on Sam's heels, Dean rushed at me. He looked like he was fleeing; something was wrong.

"Dean, what's happening?" I asked. He rushed up to me and grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around to face the hall again.

"Get upstairs, now." He panted. I followed his command and he kept his hand on my back the whole way up. Once we were in the upstairs hallway, he pushed me into a bedroom. The one I'd used when I stayed here before being kidnapped and possessed. It hadn't changed much. The bottle of water Sam had given me was even still on the nightstand.

"Dean, we need to help Sam and Bobby. What's going on? Why are up here?" I snapped as Dean closed the door. He was trying to catch his breath.

"Stay quiet for a minute. They can't know we're here." He said.

"Is Sam okay? What happened to Bobby? Dean?" I went to him as he doubled over, panting hard, and put my hand on his shoulder. My gun hung loosely in my right hand at my side. I glanced over my shoulder, turning a little to the left as I did so.

There was a sudden white hot pain on my right side. I felt something sharp glide through the thick, tough skin of my binding mark scar. When the icy thing left my side burning warmth spread down and through my shirt. Dean stood tall with a wicked smile on his face as I gripped my side with my free hand. My eyes grew wide.

"Not Dean." I whispered. He made a move to get my gun away from me, but I held tight and sidestepped his lunge. While his back was turned and before he spun around, I shot one silver round point blank into his thigh to take him down. Even though I was pretty sure this wasn't really Dean, I wanted to make sure he wasn't possessed. I slammed the handle of my gun down on his head when he fell to his knees. He stopped moving and fell face down onto the old rug. "Stay here until I know you aren't you." My voice shook at the sight before me.

The door to the bedroom opened and a strange man in a suit walked in. Behind him, from downstairs, I could hear someone yelling my name. They'd noticed my absence. Finally.

"Oh, Her Excellence's favorite vessel. And Her Excellence's prized ingredient. Aren't I the lucky one? She'll have a pretty prize for me when I return you to her care." The man smiled and his eyes flashed black. A demon.

 _Shit._ I was only prepared for shifters. These silver bullets did nothing for demons. The ones I had weren't carved with devil's traps. Dean and Sam hadn't thought that I'd need them. I was supposed to stay behind Sam the whole time. He had the good bullets.

I looked around the room quickly as the man approached. The window. I could go out the window. But unless I had time to really plan out my handholds and footing, I'd fall. I'd probably live, but the baby might not. The bedframe was iron, useless. Books everywhere… They'd taken all the weapons and dangerous things out before locking me in here all those weeks ago.

 _The water bottle._ I still had Dean's ring, the blessed, silver ring that made holy water every time I washed my hands. Reaching over the body of not-Dean, I grabbed the plastic thing and opened it, backing across the room to stay as far away as possible from the demon. He circled around and glanced down at not-Dean before glaring at me. My gun was tucked under my left arm and I poured out some water into my cupped right hand, making sure it touched the ring. Just a few more steps and the demon would be far enough from the door for me to make a run for it.

"Why don't you just come quietly, pretty mama?" The demon growled. I hoped the guys hadn't heard that. But of course they hadn't. If they'd have been close enough to hear him they would be in the room already and I wouldn't have to listen to this crappy monologue.

I glanced at the door. The demon was in the perfect position. I threw my handful of water at his face and sure enough, it bubbled and steamed and the demon screamed. I sprinted past him out of the room and gripped my gun tightly, the water bottle taking its place under my arm. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I couldn't hear any talking from the kitchen. Something gleamed from under a bookshelf in the living room as I passed it.

 _The demon knife_. Why was the demon knife in here? Dean was supposed to have it.

 _What happened to Dean? Is he actually upstairs? Was that really him?_

 _Did I shoot Dean?_

I rushed into the room after scanning it quickly and grabbed the infamous knife. I dropped the water bottle and put the gun in my belt with the safety on. Holding the knife like Dean taught me, I pressed my back against the frame of the fireplace behind the desk and took stock of the situation before the demon came downstairs after me.

There were five demons in suits that I could see scattered about the kitchen, all dead and unmoving. Another suit was sprawled out in front of the couch just to my left. I took a deep breath and tried not to think of the human lives we'd just taken. I glanced back to the kitchen and saw a set of familiar legs, the torso out of view, lying motionless near the hall.

"No, Bobby." I sighed, my free hand coming to over my mouth. My face got hot and tears tried to jump into my eyes. I blinked them back and tried to remember that one of the shifters had probably taken Bobby's form. The other was probably mimicking Dean. Hopefully. I didn't see Sam anywhere, so maybe they were looking for me, or maybe scanning the rest of the house?

The demon from upstairs came around the corner fast, looking pissed off. I hadn't heard him come down the creaky old steps. He rushed at me and I let out a panicked whimper. Through the kitchen I ran, jumping over the motionless bodies. I noticed the Bobby lying there was wearing his normal clothes. The real Bobby had been borrowing clothes from the Winchesters for the past few weeks. He was wearing a thick canvas jacket today, not the old black vest he usually wore. _What a relief._

But the demon was still chasing me. As soon as I got into the hall, I pressed myself as flat as I could against the wall between the hall and the kitchen, close to the doorway. I took a deep, quick breath and tightened my fingers around the knife's hilt.

As the demon rounded the corner, he looked past me and was nearly directly in front of me when he noticed my presence and turned in surprise. I plunged the knife deep under his ribcage, angling upwards. The demon stopped in his tracks and his mouth hung open. I twisted the knife and saw small bursts of yellow lightning spark from what seemed to be the insides of his bones. When he began to fall, I jerked the knife out of him and began scanning the area again before he even hit the ground. I'd have to ask the guys later if the light thing was normal or not.

Loud footsteps, several pairs, were thundering up the basement stairs. I steeled myself for another fight. Cas must have missed a few outside and now they were coming as reinforcements.

"I found her." Someone yelled from behind me. I whipped around and held the knife ready but let out my held breath when I saw that it was only Cas. Looking back to the stairs, I saw Sam, then Bobby, then Dean emerge. Sam smiled widely and seemed relieved, but Dean shoved past him. He did not look quite so jovial. In fact, I could have sworn that I saw murder in his eyes as he approached.

"You were supposed to stay behind Sam." He yelled. His face was red and everything. Very obviously, the hunter was upset. Relief flooded me as I realized that this was definitely the real Dean. The very real, overly protective, big brother Dean. I had to go finish the shifter upstairs.

"Excuse me." I said, pushing him out of the way. The others parted and I headed up the stairs, followed closely by Cas and Dean. I figured Dean still had a bone to pick with me and Cas could see that the shifter in the bedroom wasn't dead.

Dean entered the room just as I pulled the trigger and shot Not-Dean in the head, and again in the heart. I'd been learning so much lore that I couldn't remember which one was the kill shot. Come to think of it, this Dean was wearing strange clothes too. Bobby's old clothes, ones with big grease stains on them. The real Dean stopped short and gave his doppelganger a confused look. Then he looked to me.

"How did you know that wasn't me?" He asked, looking both taken aback and slightly unnerved by the lack of remorse on my face.

"I didn't until you started yelling at me. That's why I didn't kill it earlier." I said. "Clothes are different too." Dean frowned, but shrugged after a few seconds. That must have been a good enough explanation for him.

"Allison, are you hurt? There's blood on your shirt and it's torn." Cas said as he came closer.

"No, it's not my blood. Some demon grabbed my shirt and tore it." I said, unable to make eye contact. I noticed that Dean had left already and was loudly thumping his way down the steps.

"You can't lie to an angel. The truth may be situational and you seem to know how to make something sound true in any situation but you are a terrible liar when you're hurt, even by human standards. Just let me seal the wound. I won't take any of your scars if you don't want me to." He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice to just over a whisper. "And this won't hurt the child in any way."

"You can take my scars away?" I asked quietly. "I've had these scars for months, and you can just poof them off? Just like that? And I'll have my normal skin again, without the claw marks, and the knife wounds, and the bullet scars?"

"Yes." Cas spoke as if he were speaking to a five year old.

"No way. Why didn't you mention that before?" I asked. I could go swimming without having people gape at my marks. I could wear crop tops again without children asking their mothers what was wrong with me. I could… But I'd earned these marks. They reminded me of how strong I was, how far I'd come…

"You seemed rather hesitant to let me heal any of your injuries. I didn't want to push you too far. It was also my understanding that you valued your scars as something like trophies. That you measured your strength by how many you accumulated." Cas said.

"I guess I kind of do. Sounds weird when someone else says it." I bowed my head and pressed my hand into the wound on my side to try and stop the bleeding while I thought about my decision.

"Your strength does not come as a result of the thickened bundles of skin cells and collagen from trauma, Allison. It comes from who you are and what you've learned. How you handle a situation is strength. Not how the situation handles you." Cas said.

"Wow. Cas, that was almost poetic. Aside from the skin cells and collagen part." I smirked. Cas was right. These scars didn't define who I was. They didn't make me strong or weak. They didn't make me beautiful or ruined. They were just kinda… there. Reminders of bad memories that I'd already learned lessons from. They no longer served a purpose. "Yeah, Cas. Yeah, take the scars off, and seal up this fountain. Please. Oh, but… can you leave the stretch marks?"

Cas nodded. Gently, he touched two fingers to the skin exposed by the tear in my shirt, just below the gash. It sealed up in a blaze of blue light. He moved his hand to my forehead and closed his eyes. I could see blue glowing through his eyelids, which was a little unnerving, but what was more unnerving was the feeling of my skin moving and warping where my scars were. It only lasted a second, but it was unpleasant nonetheless. Then, there was no more pain. No more tightness on my shoulder or my side when I moved. No more heat from the wounds that were still healing. When he removed his hand, I tugged the silver ring on my thumb off and looked at the digit.

No burn scar. Replacing the ring, I tugged the left side of my shirt off my shoulder, not caring if Cas was still there or not. No Wendigo claw marks. I looked to Cas and smiled hugely, throwing myself at him and wrapping my arms around him. He laughed softly. I hadn't heard Cas laugh in a long time.

"Thank you, Cas. For everything."

"You are my friend, Allison. I don't want to see you hurting." Cas returned the hug quickly before we parted.

We headed downstairs to see Bobby picking over his books with Sam and Dean seated comfortably on the couch in the living room. They'd dragged the bodies into the kitchen already.

"Did they take anything?" I asked.

"No, and they didn't ruin anything either, 'sides my clothes. Looks like we'll be diggin' tonight." Bobby said.

"Here's where your training comes in, Li." Dean sent me a shit eating grin.

"You're not gonna make me dig the entire hole, are you?" I crossed my arms over my chest. If I had to dig a hole big enough for all these bodies by myself, there was no way I'd get any sleep tonight. There was also a chance that all that effort and straining could hurt the baby. Maybe I could convince Cas to help me after the guys went to bed…

"Course not. It'll take all of us to get these bodies buried before sunrise." Sam said.

"But you will be pulling double duty." Dean said. "For not following direct orders. You could have been killed, Li. We had a plan for a reason."

"I followed the plan until a shifter who had your face came at me and told me to go upstairs. How was I supposed to know it wasn't actually you?" I snapped.

"You had orders to stay behind Sam until all demons and shifters were accounted for." Dean growled, standing and coming to tower over me. I looked up at him but did not back down.

"But I thought you changed the plan. You can't blame me for obeying orders I sincerely thought came directly from you."

"I can and I will!" He shouted. I blinked in surprise; my arms dropped and I took a few steps back, images of big hands going for my neck flashing through my head. Cas took a half step towards me and put his arm between me and Dean. _Did I… Did I shoot the wrong Dean?_

Sam seemed to have to have the same thought. He came up silently behind Dean and pressed a silver pocket knife to his exposed neck. Dean whipped around in surprise but it did not burn his skin. I was relieved, but why was Dean being so hostile?

"I'm me, okay?" He growled. "I didn't mean to shout." He turned and left the living room. We heard him rooting through the fridge a few seconds later.

"Wouldn't be surprised if everything in there is bad, boy. Ain't been bought for in weeks." Bobby said. "Cas, we clear? Any more baddies in my business?"

"We've killed them all." Cas said. I went to sit next to Sam and only flinched a little when Dean sat next to me after an unfruitful search.

"I'm sorry I yelled." He grunted, glaring at the floor. "We just killed seven innocent people in cold blood."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't stay right behind Sam." I said quickly, looking at my hands folded in my lap. The silence that followed was long and dense.

"Who's ready for lunch? They'll keep until sundown when we can dig without passersby calling the fuzz." Bobby said somberly. I realized it was only afternoon. I could have slept in for a few more hours and we still could have been done before dinner.

The shattered remains of the audio recorder crunched under my shoes as we left the house and got in our cars. Bobby pulled his into his driveway and then joined Cas and I in the back seat. Being the smallest, I was squished between the angel and the junk yard dog.

I still had blood on my shirt. Dean would be even more pissed than he already was if I got even more blood on his seats. I tried to hold that part of my shirt as far away from the leather as possible.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know; leave a review! See you next Saturday (unless I'm feeling ambitious and decide to do a mid-week post; don't count on it though).**


	19. Tonight, We Dig

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry I'm posting so late. This week has been crazy and honestly I forgot today was Saturday. Also, this chapter is short because I haven't had time to finish the next scene. Anyway, enjoy!**

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 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _The shattered remains of the audio recorder crunched under my shoes as we left the house and got in our cars. Bobby pulled his into his driveway and then joined Cas and I in the back seat. Being the smallest, I was squished between the angel and the junk yard dog._

 _I still had blood on my shirt. Dean would be even more pissed than he already was if I got even more blood on his seats. I tried to hold that part of my shirt as far away from the leather as possible._

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Once the sun went down, Bobby pulled out several old work lights and moved a junk car out of its slot for us to dig under. It would be easier to hide the hole if there was a car over it, he said. I took his word for it; this didn't seem like the first time he'd done this.

Sam, Cas, and I started digging first. We made quick work of the first foot or so, but then came the hard packed soil. Digging a three foot deep hole big enough to hide so many bodies was exhausting. Dean and Sam swapped places once we hit two feet. I was sweating profusely and my muscles began to burn, but I didn't complain. I also didn't look directly at Dean. He was still on edge after lunch and had snapped at me once more just before dinner as we were trying to put Bobby's house back together. I spent the time between dinner and sundown trying to get the blood off the floor of the guest bedroom, alone.

Sam and Bobby started dragging the bodies over as soon as Dean hit three feet. I was still barely at two and a half; I'd hit a large rock and couldn't dislodge it. Cas had hit three feet a while ago.

"Move it, Princess. The sooner we finish this, the sooner I can hit the sack." Dean said as he left the hole.

"Dean, ease up." Sam said as he dropped off another body. "She's going as fast as she can."

"Well it's not fast enough." Dean said.

"She ain't been doin' this as long as you have, boy." Bobby said as he arrived with the last body. "Cut the poor gal some slack."

"No, he's right." I panted from the hole I was still working on. "I should be done by now. I'm just having a hard time with this rock." I let the steel edge of my shovel clang against the surface. "Just give me a few more minutes."

"Why didn't you say you hit a rock?" Dean asked. He jumped back into the hole with me and held out his hand for my shovel.

"You- you're gonna help me?" I asked, skeptical of his sudden change of mood.

"Rocks can be tricky. Let me show you how to get 'em out." He said with a hint of softness in his eyes, like he was trying to apologize in his own way. I slowly handed him the shovel and he pried the rock out. It was bigger than I imagined it to be by about six inches. Once that was rolled out of the way, I finished my part in just a few minutes.

"Good to go?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Load 'er up." Dean said.

Once the hole was filled and the excess dirt compacted over the area, we shoved the junk car back in place and returned to Bobby's house.

"Gettin' late. Why don't ya stay here for the night?" Bobby said as we entered the living room.

"What time is it?" Sam asked, washing the dirt from his hands in the kitchen sink.

"Near one by now." Bobby said. "Shouldn't drive that long while you're runnin' on fumes."

"Yeah, we'll stay here. Thanks, Bobby." Dean said. He kicked off his boots and headed for the hall closet where Bobby kept the bed rolls and blankets.

"Feel free to use the facilities. Don't want my house any more filled with stink than it already is." Bobby said in his gruff tone as he went upstairs.

I looked down at myself and realized I was pretty gross. Covered in grave dirt, leaking sweat, and bleeding a little from some popped blisters that the shovel had not been kind on. My nose wrinkled as I sniffed myself. I really needed to get stronger deodorant.

"Ali, why don't you take the first shower?" Sam suggested as he dried his hands.

"Why? You guys need it too. I'll probably take longer than either of you." I said, picking the dirt from beneath my fingernails.

He snorted. "If you don't want to, then don't. I was just trying to be nice."

I looked up at him and saw his face colored with concern and confusion. "I know. I just don't want to be-" My throat seized up before I could say 'don't want to be babied'. "Treated like a little girl." I continued quickly. "I don't want to be treated any different just because I'm female."

"I let Dean have the first shower all the time." Sam said as he sat at the kitchen table. "Gives us both time to think after a hunt. And he can't crab about the hot water giving out halfway through. Is this really about us treating you differently, or is it something else? Because today hasn't really been easy on any of us." Sam locked eyes with me. "I was supposed to keep you safe, Ali. Dean gave me the business right after you went up to kill that shifter. He almost got into it with Bobby too. You really freaked us out when you disappeared."

"I honestly thought it was Dean, okay?" I said, sighing in frustration. "I don't know what else to say. I'm not sorry for obeying an order that I thought was directly from Dean."

"I know, Ali. I would've done the same thing in that situation. I'm just saying that… we thought we lost you. Again."

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. Guilt and pain welled up in my chest and swirled in a slow burn that was so familiar to me that it was almost comforting. It'd been a few weeks since I'd felt it, but it was like an old friend coming back to visit. "You almost did. Don't tell Dean."

"What happened, Ali?" Sam asked softly, suddenly very concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now. Uh, shifter lured me to the bedroom, I knocked him out, a demon came to try to get me but I got away and killed him too. And his vessel." The guilt rose and I had to swallow again to keep it from overwhelming me. My voice became increasingly difficult to keep level. "If Dean finds out I got hurt, he might not let me hunt with you guys."

"You were hurt?" Sam asked, coming to stand in front of me. "Where? Is it bad?"

"Cas fixed it. I said I'm fine." I couldn't look at him. "Don't tell Dean."

"Ali…" Sam started, but ended up with just a sigh.

"I know. But it was just a one time thing. I can't let him keep me on the bench because of one little cut." I whispered. There were footsteps coming down the hall.

"You two havin' a private huddle or somethin'?" Dean asked as he dropped an armful of bedding on the desk. I turned around and shook my head no. He glanced skeptically between the two of us. "Sam?"

Sam shrugged and tried to look innocent. "Just talking about who's gonna shower first."

"Right." Dean didn't seem convinced. "Why don't you and me go unload the car while Princess here cleans up?"

"I'm not a princess, Dean." I snapped.

"I know, Li. But you are the source of the biggest stench in this room, so mosey on up to the bathroom before the smell settles." Dean said, a hint of humor in his tone.

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be quick." The guys left the kitchen and headed for the Impala. I was halfway through my shower, admiring my new flawless skin, when I realized I had no clean clothes to put on once I got out. Frustrated, I kicked the side of the tub lightly and finished washing the dirt from my hair and body. At least there was a clean towel in the cabinet that I could wrap up in.

"Cas?" I hissed out the door of the bathroom after making sure the coast was clear.

There was no answer. Figures. He was probably huddled in the basement or the kitchen reading one of Bobby's books by now.

"Ali?" Sam asked from the base of the stairs. I slammed the bathroom door shut as he came up the stairs. "What's up?"

"Nothing." I said quickly, leaning heavily on the door.

"Doesn't sound like nothing. You sure Cas fixed it?" He asked. I could tell he was right outside the door.

I sighed and closed my eyes. I knew that Sam was really trying to help me. For the past couple days, that's all he seemed to do. How could he help me if I continued to push him away? Maybe this could be the first of many baby steps I'd need to take before I was comfortable getting help from anyone again. Slowly, I stood away from the door and turned the handle, holding the towel tight around me.

As soon as Sam's gaze landed on me, he seemed confused.

"I don't have any clothes to put on." I said. "I'm not lying about Cas fixing the cut."

"Your scars…" He said, his face contorted in confusion.

"Cas took them off." I said, wrapping the towel tighter.

"You let him?"

"Yeah. They were just scars. Just painful reminders of the past." I shrugged.

"Wow. I didn't expect you to get rid of them so fast." Sam said.

"Neither did I." I said. "Was my overnight bag in the trunk?"

"Uh, yeah. Let me get it. It's in the guest room." Sam disappeared down the hall and returned a moment later with the green duffel.

"Thanks, Sam." I took it and set it on the sink.

"No problem." He went back downstairs and I watched him go. My stomach did little flips and I blushed, quickly closing the bathroom door.

"What the…" I whispered to myself as I opened what was clearly my duffel. Inside, I found my toiletry bag, my underclothes, my socks, my jeans, my jacket, my undershirt, my sleep shorts, and several of Sam's shirts. I could tell they were his because they were a brand that Dean never bought. Where were my sleep shirts?

"Dean." I grumbled. It had to be him. He'd been pulling stupid pranks since I dropped him in sparring practice; he put a fake cockroach in the cereal box once, taped clear plastic wrap in a doorway (which I promptly ran into), and even put orajel on my toothbrush, making my mouth go numb as I brushed. Sure, he pulled similar pranks on Sam, but this was getting pretty annoying. I put on Sam's shirt just to spite Dean. If he knew that his childish antics were starting to get to me, he would never stop.

Sam's shirt hung down low enough that didn't need to wear my shorts, but I did anyway. I wore my shortest pair so they wouldn't show under the shirt. The fabric of the white tee was softer than I expected; I may have to keep this one. I tossed my duffel into the guest room on the way past and went downstairs.

Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch, attention trained on the tiny television. I stood in the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb. "Shower's free."

Sam looked up and snorted. "Why are you wearing my shirt?" There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It's just so soft. I couldn't resist." I said with one suggestive wink.

Dean nearly choked on the beer he'd been sipping. I smiled as wide as Sam's eyes grew before I laughed and laughed.

"Am I missing something?" Sam asked, glancing between his brother and me.

Dean regained his composure and rushed up the stairs, beer in hand. There was a mischievous grin and plenty of blush on his face as he rushed past me. We heard the bathroom door slam. I started laughing again and sat next to Sam.

"Seriously, what's going on?" Sam asked, much more relaxed than before.

"Dean's pulling pranks on me. He replaced my sleep shirts with your undershirts." I said. "Still trying to set us up, I guess. What are we watching?"

"Uh, just some late night crap show." Sam said, gesturing to the television where a fake news anchor was delivering a poorly written joke about some political party I'd never heard of.

"Huh." We sat back and watched the show for a while. I knew I could just go to bed, but I was still worked up over the events of the day. Sitting with Sam helped some, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep well if I tried.

So many innocent lives were taken today. I could have easily been counted among the casualties; absently, I wondered if Cas would tell the guys about the baby if I passed away. _Probably not_. I thought bitterly. _Maybe it would be better if they never knew._

Those people, the ones the demons took… They never wanted this. They didn't ask for it. In fact, there was nothing they could do to help themselves once that smoke invaded their lungs. And now they were dead and we had been the ones to take their lives. I killed a man today. _I killed a man today._

But we sent a handful of demons back to Hell. They couldn't possess anyone else now. _I get why Cas tried to kill me in that barn._ I ruminated silently. _Francesca was a dangerous demon. She'd already killed like fifty people. I would have been just one more life lost to save countless more. Not a high price to send a demon back to hell, I suppose. If she hadn't smoked out right before the final blow, I'd be in Heaven with Mark and Kole, probably. But I'm not; Cas didn't kill me. He didn't even let me die on my own. The guy I killed… he could've lived if I'd only been a little more careful. If I'd only tried a little harder to contain him and exorcise the demon… My failure cost a good man his life._

The show ended and I still didn't feel ready to face unconsciousness. Images of that man would surely haunt my dreams. Sam turned off the television and said something. I'd been off in my own little world and didn't catch his words.

"What?"

"You doin' okay?" He asked.

I pulled my legs onto the couch and sat with my forehead on my knees. The guilt was still pulsing dully in my chest, throbbing like a bruise. "I'm exhausted but I know I won't be able to sleep." I said quietly, not wanting to wake Bobby. "I shot a guy with Dean's face and stabbed a stranger today, Sam. How can I even hope not to have nightmares after that?" I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths.

Sam didn't say anything. He just started rubbing my back. Gentle, slow circles up and down my spine with enough force to massage the tense muscles into submission. I moaned softly after a few minutes. My mind was getting foggy; it was hard to think through the exhaustion.

"I hate to say it, but it doesn't get easier. You just learn to cope." Sam said. I felt my body swaying with each circle and eventually I stopped trying to correct it. I bumped into Sam's shoulder and let my head rest there as my knees fell into his lap.

"Thanks, Sam." I said, letting my eyes close.

"Think you can sleep?" He asked, resting his hand on my hip.

I was already gone.

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 **A/N: Please leave a review! Thanks, and see you soon!**


	20. A Dream of Family

**A/N: Vivi here! Tried twice to post this chapter, kept posting code instead. Trying a different way of formatting it this time. Sorry for the confusion. Third time's the charm?**

 _Previously on Family Practice…_

 _"I hate to say it, but it doesn't get easier. You just learn to cope." Sam said. I felt my body swaying with each circle and eventually I stopped trying to correct it. I bumped into Sam's shoulder and let my head rest there as my knees fell into his lap._

 _"Thanks, Sam." I said, letting my eyes close._

 _"Think you can sleep?" He asked, resting his hand on my hip._

 _I was already gone._

I woke up with a gasp, or maybe it was a strangled scream. Frantically, I pawed around me for a weapon, any weapon, to fend off the black-eyed demon with Dean's face as he tried to strangle me with the belt of my gun holster.

"Hey, slow down." Someone spoke.

My eyes flashed open and took in the deep blackness of the room. The more I looked, the sooner I realized that what I'd seen had been a nightmare. There was no demon here. I could feel Sam shift beside me; my knees were still settled on his lap. A sharp twinge of pain lit up the nerves in my back as he moved and I realized I was laying at a funny angle.

"It's too early for that." Sam said, his voice slurred. "And Bobby and Dean are upstairs."

If it hadn't been so dark in the room, he would have seen my cheeks flush bright red. "I- Sorry. Nightmare."

"Oh. What were you doing then?"

"Trying to find a weapon. Nevermind. I'm sorry I fell asleep on you and woke you up." I said, moving off the hunter and standing in the cool darkness of the living room. Vainly, I tried to stretch out my back, which just throbbed in response, like it was laughing at me.

"It's no problem, Ali. What's wrong?" Sam asked as I gave up trying to calm my back and instead rubbed an anxious hand up and down my arm, making a soft scuffing sound. The room was colder than I first thought.

"I didn't mean to invade your space." I said softly. "Or dump my emotional shit on you."

"You didn't." Sam said. "You didn't invade my space. I… I like having you close. And I'm here for you when you need to talk. Always will be."

"How has no one tied you down yet?" I wondered aloud, shifting my weight on my cold feet. _Seriously? Contain yourself, girl. Don't go all desperate now._ I scolded myself for the slip up. Even in the dead of night, my hormones could make a surprise appearance.

Sam snorted a laugh. "I've been tied down plenty of times."

In the dark, I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean."

"We don't stay put for long, in case you haven't noticed. Not exactly time to get to know someone." Sam shrugged. There was a pregnant silence between us for a minute or so. "You headin' up to bed?"

"Dean is in the guest room, isn't he?" I asked, confused. "I mean, he's not on the floor. There's only one guest room."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that's where he went. Uh, here. Take the couch. I'll take the floor." Sam stood and went to the desk to collect the bedding Dean left there earlier.

"If my back wasn't aching, I'd fight you for the floor." I said as I sat on the already warm couch. Sam tossed me a blanket and pillow before laying out the rest of his haul in front of the couch. Then he sat next to me.

"Why does your back ache?" Sam asked.

 _Because I'm pregnant and I'm gaining weight that my spine hasn't gotten used to yet._ "Probably jacked it up digging that trench."

"I thought you said you were fine last night." Sam said, moving closer.

"I was. Maybe it was how we fell asleep? I don't know." I said, massaging my temples to hide my discomfort with the lie.

"Can I try to fix it? I learned some stuff from a physical therapist that worked on Dean after his back got messed up by a hidebehind." Sam said.

"A what?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"A hidebehind. It's like a bear-dog thing that hides before you can see it in the woods. Used to kidnap loggers way back when. Now they usually take hikers. Dean and me got one a while back with this hunter named Delilah." Sam explained. "I think she and Dean had a thing but I haven't heard from her in a couple years. Anyway, it broke his back and laid him up for a while."

"Huh."

"So, how about it?" Sam asked, a slight smirk on his lips.

"If you insist." I said, trying hard to keep the relief out of my voice.

Sam moved away and let me lay down stiffly on the couch. The next few minutes were absolute bliss. The tension in my back and shoulders melted away under Sam's fingers and I felt my eyelids start to droop. One long, low moan escaped my throat as he finally got my lower back to release.

"I'm glad Dean isn't awake. I'd never hear the end of it." Sam said quietly.

"The end of what?" I asked sleepily.

Sam chuckled. "You making those sounds in Bobby's living room because of me."

I blushed. "He can think whatever he wants. Jerkface."

Sam was quiet for a while. "He doesn't mean to be a jerk. Well, sometimes he does, but I don't think he means anything by it. He's not trying to hurt anyone."

I sighed; Sam was right. "Yeah, but it still bugs me when he yells."

"He's not usually like this." Sam said, taking a few seconds to stretch out the long muscles in my lower back. "We've trained a couple new hunters over the years. Roy, Walt, Jo, Delilah… He wasn't like this with them. Hell, we took Jo on her first case under threat of death from her mother. I think he's just… I don't know. Worried about you getting hurt, probably."

"That's what he tells me." I mumbled. "I don't know why he's so concerned."

"Dean doesn't really bond with people. We… we haven't had a lot of luck keeping friends around. Things usually go south after a while; either they get killed or they abandon us. But you're different. He let you in. I think it's because we were crammed together for a long time, y'know? It was just the four of us. And we didn't think you'd ever want to hunt or leave or anything, so you were the most stable thing in our lives for a while. We got attached." Sam was quiet for a few seconds. "You've been through a lot and you weren't the only one to feel the aftershocks when all that shit went down. He doesn't want to lose another part of his family. Neither do I."

I let Sam's words sink in before speaking. "You won't, if I can help it."

There was a long stretch of pensive silence, punctuated by the occasional beater car putting along the road Bobby lived on. A soft rhythm of contented snores drifted down the stairs occasionally, lulling me into a near doze. My back hadn't been so loose in months; I didn't want to move and ruin the feeling.

"Any better?" Sam asked, pulling me back from the brink of sleep.

"Mmm-hmm." I nodded, letting my eyes slide closed.

"Sam!" My head whipped towards the stairs at the shout and instantly Sam was running from me. I got up quickly, forgetting the peace of the last few minutes, and followed after him.

"Sam!" Dean shouted again, sounding desperate and panicked from behind the guest room door. Sam was almost there when Bobby rounded the corner and met us outside the room. Without hesitation, Sam flung the door open, brandishing the demon knife. I hadn't even seen him grab it.

Dean was laying on the floor, entangled in the blankets, grunting as if he were fighting tooth and nail with a beast twice his size. But his eyes were closed.

Sam and I stopped short at the sight of him rolling around in the sheets. Bobby pushed Sam out of the way to see what was going on before he sighed. "You gonna handle this?" The tired old hunter asked.

"Yeah." Sam breathed, not taking his eyes off of Dean.

Bobby turned his attention to me. "Don't you go near 'im 'til he's lucid. Man's a trained killer, even in his sleep."

"Yes, sir." I said submissively. The look on his face told me several things. One, this had happened before. His face looked years beyond his age with worry and guilt at the sight before him. Two, he was deadly serious about keeping away from the sleeping hunter. The sharp, piercing gaze with which he delivered his warning was more than enough to convince me of that. Third, he seemed to know that Sam was the best equipped to handle his brother in this sort of situation. Bobby didn't even make a move towards Dean before he left. I swallowed the lump of panic and fear in my throat as I watched Bobby lumber back to his bedroom, shoulders slumped.

"Dean." I looked back into the guest room to see Sam kneeling next to Dean, who was still thrashing on the floor and crying out occasionally. "Dean, talk to me. You gotta wake up, man. It's just a nightmare. Wake up."

I walked further into the room, wanting to help in any way possible without getting too close to Dean. Sam looked up when he heard the floor boards squeak and motioned for me to stay back and stay quiet. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean reared up and freed one hand from the blanket just fast enough to land a powerful blow to Sam's chin, sending the younger brother sprawling out on the rug. "Dammit, Dean." Sam growled before getting up and returning to his post. This time, he held down both his brother's arms and shook him rather violently. "Dean, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

"No!" Dean grunted, his head thrashing side to side as he struggled against his brother. "Don't!"

"Don't what, Dean?" Sam asked, shaking him again, more gently this time. "Come on, wake up."

"Stay away from them." Dean growled nearly bucking Sam off. I flinched back against the wall and started to regret my decision to enter the room.

"Who, Dean? Come on, just wake up already." Sam managed to pin him down again, but not until after he'd managed to free his legs from the blankets. Dean jerked around and nearly caught Sam's head with his knee.

"They're mine. I'm respons- ible for them." Dean growled loudly and then yelled nothing in particular, making Sam and I wince. "Sammy… Li…"

"Dean, we're right here." I said softly, hoping that maybe I could help pull him from his panic.

"Come on, dude, wake up. You're freaking us out a little." Sam said with another gentle shake. "Dean, it's time to wake up. This isn't funny."

"No…" Dean moaned, a choked sob cutting off the last few seconds.

"Come back to me, Dean." Sam said quietly. Dean stopped his powerful, angry movement and seemed to fall still on the blood stained floor. My breath caught in my throat as I realized he was laying over the stain where I'd shot Not-Dean in the head and the heart just hours ago.

"S'mmy?" Slowly, Dean's eyes blinked open and he sniffed his nose loudly.

"Hey, you with me?" Sam asked, carefully releasing Dean's arms. Sam sat back on his heels and waited for Dean to nod. The oldest Winchester wiped his arm across his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. "That was a bad one, wasn't it?" Sam asked softly. Dean nodded, but said nothing.

"Sorry 'bout your face." Dean said, his voice hoarse from all the yelling today had brought.

"I'll get you back later." Sam said, a hint of humor in his voice. "You okay? Didn't knock yourself on the night stand on the way down, did you?"

Dean sat up, still focusing on breathing, as he ran a hand through his hair. It came back clean. "Don't think so." Dean's voice was barely a whisper. His eyes met mine but he quickly looked away.

"It's okay, Dean." I said, moving to kneel beside Sam at Dean's hip. "We all have nightmares. You've heard me before."

"Yeah." Dean muttered, still unable to look at me.

"Sure you're okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine." Dean snapped with just enough energy to mean it. "Didn't mean to wake ya."

"You didn't." Sam said as he stood.

"Oh?" Dean looked up and stood as well. Then he looked down at me, finally making eye contact. "Is that so?"

"Yes. I woke him up." I said, taking the hand Sam offered me as I, too, stood in the darkened room. "I had a nightmare too. Beat you to it."

"Oh." Dean said, his face falling a little. "What time is it anyway?"

"Late." Sam said, rubbing his chin lightly where Dean got him. "I'm headin' back to bed."

"Right." Dean said, watching Sam leave the room. I turned to follow him a hand landed on my shoulder and stopped me. "Li, wait."

"You okay? Is something wrong?" I asked, turning to face Dean.

"I'm fine, really. Are _you_ okay? I didn't hear you yell or anything, or I would've come…" Dean said, trailing off.

"It wasn't one of my usual dreams. I didn't get far enough to make any noise, much less scream. It was pretty short. Intense, but short." I was quiet for a few seconds. He didn't fill the silence. "Would you really have come? I thought you were all about tough love now."

"I'd have come in with guns blazing. You know that." Dean said. His voice echoed the surety and sincerity that I'd begun to doubt over the past week. I let go of a breath I didn't notice I'd been holding.

"But why? Bobby's house is safe, isn't it? And you know I was with Sam." I said, crossing my arms.

"I wouldn't take the risk. No place can be safe against everything. And if there was something in this house that shouldn't be, I would wanna know about it before it knows about me. I got my whole family in this place right now." Dean paused to snort. "Hell, I don't even like having you and Sam on the same floor, much less the ground floor. Feels like putting all my eggs in one basket, y'know?"

"Dean, we're safe here. Cas would let us know if anything dangerous comes around. Why don't you just relax and go back to sleep?" I suggested gently. "We'll all be here in the morning, safe and sound."

"Sure we will." Dean said, glancing at the bed with a look of frustration on his face. "It's just… And don't you tell another soul I said this. You have to promise me." Dean looked me in the eye with dead seriousness and I rolled my steel blue irises at him.

"Fine. What is it?"

The oldest Winchester opened his mouth to speak, but only a sigh escaped. He looked to the ground and crossed his arms, mirroring my stance. "It's just… I've been around Sammy his whole life, and I only just got to the point where I can sleep in a separate room in the bunker without waking up in a panic with my brain screaming 'where's Sammy'. And when we're on the road, we just always share a room, and… This isn't the bunker, y'know? I can't… I can't hear him from up here. Makes it hard for me to sleep. But now you probably think I'm a whiny, sniveling little man-child who can't sleep on his own-"

I stopped him with a gentle palm on his cheek. He looked up from the floor with soft surprise in his eyes. "I get it. Took me months to sleep well enough to rest after Cas dropped me off with you." I let my hand fall to my side. "I wouldn't mind taking the bed, if you wanna-"

"Yes." Dean said, his tone that of deep seated relief. "Don't tell Sam, or Cas, or- Heaven forbid- Bobby. Please."

"I keep my promises, Dean. You don't have to worry." I smiled and picked the blankets off of the floor, hoping they weren't stained from the mostly cleaned puddle that had been there earlier.

"Thanks." He bowed his head and slowly left the room, walking quietly. I'd been enjoying my time with Sam, getting to talk to him alone again, but I understood how much Dean needed his brother. Sam needed Dean a great deal as well, but right now, it was Dean who needed a brotherly recharge.

I sighed heavily and consciously tried not to look at the blood stain on the carpet as I climbed into the bed. It smelled like Dean; leather and aftershave and just… _Dean._

 _What am I doing?_ I thought as I stared up at the ceiling, dimly lit by the moon as it shone through the half parted curtain. _Am I already coming between them? Dean hasn't had a nightmare that bad in long time… At least not that I've noticed. All because he wasn't with Sam._ A strong wave of guilt swept through me. _Maybe… Maybe I should leave sooner. Sooner than when I start to show. I don't want to drive them apart._

 _Tonight would work. I don't want to risk the window, but I could wait until they fall asleep and go out the back door. Hoof it into town, find a ride somewhere far away and find a job, a place to live. Shouldn't be too hard. Right? I can do this. For them._

I sat up in bed and rubbed my neck. It would be difficult to start fresh again. But if it meant keeping the guys together, then so be it. If it meant letting them continue saving lives, so be it. My baby and I would be okay.

Carefully, I avoided the squeaky floorboards and made my way to sit at the top of the stairs so I could listen for when they finally fell asleep. I hoped Dean could actually sleep after his debacle earlier; if not, I'd have to try the window and I really didn't want to do that.

Soft voices came around the corner and up the stairs from the living room. "Take the couch, Sam. Unless your sasquatch ass can't fit on it anymore." Dean teased.

"Like you'd fit any better." Sam replied. I heard the springs of the couch protest as someone dropped onto it. "So she really wanted to stay in the bedroom?"

"Guess so."

"Did she say why?"

"We didn't really talk about it." Dean lied. "She's not mad, if that's what you're thinking."

Sam sighed. "Do you think she's okay? I mean, she had another nightmare tonight and she was searching for a weapon even before she woke up. That's something we would do, Dean."

"What are you tryin' to say?"

"Are we doing the right thing here? Is this best for her?"

"Doesn't matter if it is or not. It's what she wants. I'm not gonna make her stop unless she decides otherwise."

"Yeah, but Dean, we grew up in this world. I don't see a way for us to avoid it. She still has a chance at a normal, happy life. Shouldn't we at least try to give her that?" Sam asked.

"Who says she can't be happy with us?" Dean asked, slightly offended. "I thought you liked her."

"I do, _man_ , I do. But I want her to be happy…" Sam paused and sighed in frustration. "But I want her to be happy with… with me." Sam's voice nearly trailed off. "And I don't think she can, y'know? Not when we're constantly risking our lives and the only stability we have to offer is a car and a bunker. I'm not ready to give up the fight and I'm not going to abandon you, so how does she fit into this?"

"We got a back seat for a reason, dude. Quit overanalyzing this. She's gonna stay with us, through thick and thin, and that's final." Dean said. I heard the rustle of blankets and a heavy sigh. "Get some rest, Sam. You look like shit."

"Somebody was hogging the shower earlier." I heard the distinct thump of a thick pillow slamming down on flesh. I almost laughed as Dean grunted and Sam chuckled. "Hey, gimme back my pillow."

"'S mine now, Losechester." Dean grumbled.

"C'mon, Dean." There was a series of thuds and grunts before I heard the couch springs groan again. They went quiet after that, but it took a long time for their breathing to even out.

 _Now's my chance…_ I thought somberly, getting to my feet.

 _She's gonna stay with us, through thick and thin, and that's final._ Dean's words echoed for the hundredth time in my head. My knees felt weak and I sat back down on the stairs, letting my head fall into my hands.

"What am I doing?" I whispered to myself, feeling utterly lost. A hot drop of saltwater streaked its way down my cheek and I ignored it.

I wanted to leave. Really, I did. It was the best option for the guys. They wouldn't have to deal with me getting huge and then having a tiny life to take care of for the next eighteen years.

But they wanted me to stay. That much was obvious. Why else would they train me and let me help out on cases? Why else would they give me the things I needed to live when I was obviously a burden to them? It felt good to be wanted. It felt good to be safe.

I ran my fingers through my hair and let the last of the confused, desperate tears fall from my eyes. _No good decisions are made so late at night, girl._ _Get some sleep. You have weeks before you have to decide for real._

I stood and flopped back into the bed, letting the scent of the Winchester pull me into a dreamless sleep.

 **A/N: Leave a review! We start a new case next week, so stay tuned…**


	21. Stomach Problems

**A/N: Vivi here! After two missed weeks and not being able to write any more than what I already had, I've decided to just post this little bit and hopefully I'll have some free time this week to write more. Finals are over, summer has begun, and yet I'm just as busy as ever. Sigh. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _I wanted to leave. Really, I did. It was the best option for the guys. They wouldn't have to deal with me getting huge and then having a tiny life to take care of for the next eighteen years._

 _But they wanted me to stay. That much was obvious. Why else would they train me and let me help out on cases? Why else would they give me the things I needed to live when I was obviously a burden to them? It felt good to be wanted. It felt good to be safe._

 _I ran my fingers through my hair and let the last of the confused, desperate tears fall from my eyes._ No good decisions are made so late at night, girl. Get some sleep. You have weeks before you have to decide for real.

 _I stood and flopped back into the bed, letting the scent of the Winchester pull me into a dreamless sleep._

The next two weeks were both exciting and grueling. We said goodbye to Bobby and headed out on a case he found for us; it was, as the guys called it, a 'simple salt and burn'. The ghost of a Victorian woman who had been hung in an attic by her jealous husband had been killing men in her house for the last few years. We found her grave, dug her up, and put her to rest. She threw Sam around a little, but left me alone. I don't think she even saw Dean until he threw his lighter into the open coffin.

That same trip, we went a few towns over to stop a djinn that had been taking people the last few months. It wasn't a case we found; one of Sam's hunter friends called him and asked for back up. Rudy was his name, and he'd already found the thing's hiding place. I stayed behind the amateur hunter Rudy like I was told while Sam and Dean rushed ahead to end the monster. Long story short, it snuck up behind Rudy and I and we ended up killing it while the guys saved the civilians it had taken. We set them up against the outside of the warehouse and called the police, taking off before they got there.

Aside from those five or so action packed days, all we did was sit around the bunker, work out, and search for new cases. It was the four of us for the first week then Cas said his goodbyes and left to continue his crusade of demon hunting. He told me he'd still be in touch and to call him if I needed him. I wasn't okay with Cas leaving. He was my friend and protector of my little one, since I still hadn't told the guys about my new status. But he reminded me that Francesca still had followers that walked the earth and he was going to try to track all of them down before they got to me and my baby. He also reminded the guys about Francesca's followers and told them to be careful if we did a case where demons may come into play. Word travels fast downstairs, apparently. Her followers could find us easily if an exorcised demon knew our location.

With Cas gone, I was bored out of my mind. That is, until Sam and I started talking more. Well, flirting is more like it. I couldn't stop myself; the hormones were powerful and all I wanted was to get closer to him. But we were only like that when Dean wasn't in the room. More and more of my decision to leave them within the next few weeks was ebbed away with every sappy pick-up line, every awkwardly embarrassed laugh, every heartfelt story we swapped. Finally, on the twelfth day after I almost left, Sam kissed me in the kitchen. It was the first time since that night in the forest and it felt just as real. Dean was out getting dinner, so we took our time. Before I knew it, we ended up in my bedroom, half clothed, sweaty, and very frustrated. I hadn't been completely ready to welcome Sam in before but now…

There were no condoms in the bunker.

And if I knew the Winchesters at all, they wouldn't go near someone else's bits without protection. I was no exception. My hormones practically threw a hissy fit and I groaned loudly. We settled for making out until the rumble of the Impala sent us hastily dressing and rushing into the war room to pretend like we were doing work.

Yeah, leaving was going to be much harder than I thought.

Then, on the fourteenth day, we caught a case.

"Hot dog." Dean said with the driest enthusiasm I'd ever heard. Sam looked up from his laptop and I looked up from the book on demonic omens that I'd been studying.

"What?" Sam asked, his tone lacking the enthusiasm that Dean's had.

"Twelve missing persons in Orem, Utah. All last seen at the same nightclub." Dean looked up and smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Sounds good to me."

"Dean, people go missing all the time. What makes this a case?" Sam asked, sitting back in his chair.

"They were all men. Big, beefy meatheads with anger management issues. And when one would go missing, it would be right after he got into it big with the next victim. The first guy… George Dow, uh, he threw down with the second guy Pete Barseki right before Dow disappeared. Then Barseki beat up Miguel Dyne before Barseki went missing. The pattern holds up right down to the latest missing person, a Mr. Nathan Carpenter. Some kind of demon, maybe, switching meatsuits? Or shifters?" Dean said.

"Why would a demon attack its next meatsuit?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, I'm just spitballin' here."

"Sounds like a case to me." I said, closing my book. "Maybe it's a wraith. They can alter minds, right?"

"Yeah. Good guess, Li. Bobby teach you that?" Dean asked, looking mildly impressed. We'd been on much better terms since returning from Bobby's house. There hadn't been any snapping or harsh words in the two weeks after he last pranked me.

"Yup." I said simply.

"Had Carpenter attacked anyone?" Sam asked.

"Not that the police department has noted." Dean said, looking back to his screen. "The club usually calls the police for their more violent fights. And all of our guys have had, quote unquote, 'violent altercations' in the club on the last night they were seen."

"Where did you say this was?" Sam asked.

"Orem, Utah. About fourteen hours from here." Dean said.

Sam cleared his throat and closed his laptop. "I'll get my stuff."

"So we're going?" I asked, looking from Sam to Dean with excitement in my eyes.

"Yeah, pack for a couple days' stay. Might take us a while to figure out what's goin' on." Dean said as he closed his own laptop.

"When are we leaving?" I asked, glancing at my watch. It was an old one of Dean's. Another hand-me-down. It was just past one in the afternoon.

"If we leave now, we can start working the case tomorrow." Dean said. "Hop to it, Princess."

"Shut up, jerk." I said with a smile still lingering on my face. I was packed and ready to go in ten minutes. We met out at the car and were on the road in no time.

We made it halfway there in one go, stopping for supplies and dinner before all the businesses closed. I had some soda with my burger. Bad idea. We had to stop every two or three hours after that for me to pee. Being about ten weeks along, I was hoping for the hormones to ease up on my bladder sooner rather than later; in the first trimester, the urge to go is hormonal, unlike the third where it's pure baby weight sitting on the bladder. However, during this particular road trip, the urges were the worst they'd been yet. Bad timing, but the guys didn't ask about it. I fell asleep at around ten and didn't wake again until we arrived at a motel in Orem.

"Ali, we're here." Sam said from the front seat.

"Finally." I grumbled. My bladder was already screaming for relief; needless to say, I was wide awake by the time Sam opened the motel door. Apparently one of them had paid for the room before they woke me up. I almost shoved my way past Sam as he hesitated in the doorway.

"Hold up, Li." Dean held my shoulder back as Sam went in and checked the room.

"We're good." Sam called from the very back, near the bathroom. I rushed in and slammed the bathroom door closed before they could beat me to it.

"Stomach problems my ass." I heard Dean mutter through the door as they unpacked.

"Dude, don't pick another fight." Sam said. "Remember last time?"

"Yeah, yeah." Dean replied.

I came back out with a loud sigh of relief and started to root through my bag. The aspirin bottle filled with my pre-natal vitamins rolled over my hands when I removed a sleep shirt and shorts; its trail left goosebumps on my skin. _They're going to guess sooner rather than later._ I thought with dread. _Work with me here, baby. I want to stay with them for a little while longer._

"I think that burger gave me food poisoning." I said quietly, trying to cover for my recent actions.

"I feel fine." Dean said. He'd ordered the same burger.

"Puking or just cramps?" Sam asked as the three of us prepped weapons and garments for bed.

"Puking and, uh, the other end too." I said, trying to put a stop to the conversation before they asked too many questions.

"Got it." Sam said shortly, rummaging through the first aid kit that Dean insisted we bring into the room on every hunt. "Don't have any meds for that. Do I need to make a run, or can you wait it out?"

"I'll wait it out." I said, hating having to lie again.

"She is not sleeping in bed with me tonight." Dean said, pointing a finger at me. "Not if she's leaking all over the place. No offence, Li, but I don't take kindly to waking up in puddles of bodily fluids."

Confused, I looked around the room.

Two double beds.

No couch.

All the other places we'd stayed so far had two beds _and_ a couch. We'd take turns on the couch, usually, except when that ghost bruised Sam's back and Dean let him have bed instead. But now…

I had to share a bed with one of them for the remainder of our stay here. I groaned and rolled my eyes. "I can control it, jerk. It's mostly passed already anyway."

"You can bunk with me tonight, Ali." Sam said with a gentle smirk. "I don't mind."

"Thanks, Sam." I changed in the bathroom and when I returned, Sam had already changed into a fresh tee shirt. I was used to them sleeping in boxers and shirts, but I wasn't ready to follow suit. A baggy shirt and comfy sleep shorts were still my go-to. Strangely though, Dean hadn't changed. Then I remembered from our last few trips that he tended to sleep fully clothed while on a case. He wanted to be ready, or something like that.

Sam and I tucked into the bed farthest from the door, inching to the far sides of the mattress. I don't think either of us were daring enough to be closer with Dean around. I watched said Winchester line the window and door with salt before turning in himself.

"Night, kids." Dean said.

"Night Dean." Sam and I said at the same time, a smile lingering on my face and my hand lingering on my stomach.

 _Someday…_

* * *

The next morning, I was up way before the sun, quietly heaving in the bathroom. I hoped with all my might that they wouldn't wake up to me puking, but I thought that if they did, last night's excuse would probably still work.

I was on my seventh round with the strong heaves of morning sickness when a soft voice made me tense up.

"Ali? You okay?"

Taking a second to clear my throat and catch my breath, I frowned. "Just food poisoning, Sam. Nothing I can't handle." My stomach rolled again and I gagged, bending back over my porcelain throne in anticipation.

The door to the bathroom, which I'd left unlatched in my hurry to make it to the toilet, was pushed open and quietly shut behind Sam's back. He looked tired and a little worried as he came to sit on the edge of the tub. With my stomach currently in a lull, I sat back on my heels and wiped some liquid from my mouth.

"Well this is embarrassing." I said quietly, trying not to wake Dean.

"It's only embarrassing if you make it that way. Everybody gets sick, Ali. Don't worry about it."

"I know, but we just started a case, and it's my first _real_ case. I want to do well, y'know? How can I do that when I'm up all night yaking my guts out?" I sighed and tried to resist the next wave of nausea.

I failed.

More of last night's burger, generously mixed with stomach acid, poured into the bowl and burned my throat. I yanked my hair out of the way just in time to spare it the nasty slop, but all that straining was taking its toll. My hips felt weak and my arms started to shake.

"Dammit." I mumbled, sinking back on my heels only to lunge forward again seconds later.

Sam held my hair for the rest of the episode. We sat in silence punctuated only by my stomach's urges for the next half hour or so. Eventually, the nausea quieted down and I was exhausted. Frustrated tears began leaking from my eyes as I dragged a scratchy motel towel across my face. Sam got me a cup of water and I cleaned my mouth out as best I could before trying to stand.

I listed uneasily to one side when my shaking legs wouldn't hold me. "Whoa there." Sam whispered as he grabbed my arm to hold me up.

"Sorry." I said. Trying to grip the counter for support, the ground disappeared beneath me. All at once, I was up in the air, held against the chest of the most stable person in my life. Sam turned out the bathroom light and we returned to bed without another word. I slept soundly for the rest of the morning with Sam curled around my back, a reassuring arm draped over my side.

* * *

 **A/N: I know it's not much. More coming soon. Sorry for the delay. Leave a review!**


	22. Meatballs and Chokers

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry for the wait. Haven't had any time to write, super stressed out, more busy now than I was during the semester. Formatting is still weird, so pardon the funky spacers. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **FPFPFPFPFP**

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _Trying to grip the counter for support, the ground disappeared beneath me. All at once, I was up in the air, held against the chest of the most stable person in my life. Sam turned out the bathroom light and we returned to bed without another word. I slept soundly for the rest of the morning with Sam curled around my back, a reassuring arm draped over my side._

 **FPFPFPFPFP**

Sam was getting out of bed when I woke up again. The alarm had just gone off and Dean was quietly cursing it from beneath the pillows of his bed. He got up, though, and threw a pillow at me.

"Rise and shine, buttercup. We got a case to crack." Dean yawned and stretched out his back. Several deep popping noises preceded a satisfied groan.

"You look like an old man when you do that." I grumbled, hauling myself upright. Pleasantly, my stomach responded well to the motion. No nausea. Guess I literally got it out of my system earlier.

"You look like an old man." Dean shot back as he trudged to the bathroom.

"What?" I laughed quietly to myself. Sam chuckled too.

"He's not always as sharp as you'd think." Sam smirked. I got up and helped him pack our gear bag, returning the freshly cleaned weapons to their rightful place. I didn't want to change right in front of Sam; Dean might come out of the bathroom at any moment, and I didn't want Sam to see the subtle bulge that had been slowly pushing its way out of my abdomen over the past few weeks. It was visible to me now, in the mirror, but only without clothing on. Sam was observant; he'd notice for sure. I couldn't risk it.

Dean came out a few minutes after we loaded up the Impala. I grabbed my clothes for the day and passed him. "We gotta get you some new duds."

"Huh?" I turned, confused. Dean nodded pointedly at the clothes in my hand.

"Can't interview people as an FBI trainee in black jeans and a green shirt that has 'recycle' written across it. You need to have a certain look if people are going to believe you're a professional." Dean said as he eyed me up and down. I frowned at the choice of garb in my hand. He was right. "Guess we'll go to the club today. Talk to the owner. Turn you loose in a mall tomorrow."

"You mean a thrift store?" I asked, unwilling to get my hopes up only to have them dashed later today. I used to love shopping. It was my stress-release, my sanctuary, my happy place when I got frustrated with life. I hadn't been shopping in months…

"No." Dean said, motioning to my duffel. "'Bout time we got you some new new threads. You're gonna need 'em if you'll be working with us."

The sound that came out of my mouth was half squeal and half excited, quiet, scream. I ran to Dean and threw my arms around him, bouncing with joy. "Thank you thank you thank you!" I said with a huge smile.

Dean laughed and awkwardly returned the hug. "Alright there, Kahless. We got work to do. Go." I detached and excitedly rushed to the bathroom to change.

Through the door, I could hear Sam scoff. "Kahless?" Sam asked, his tone betraying his amused confusion.

"King of the Klingons." Dean paused. "Star Trek? Qo'noS? Any of that sound familiar?"

"Dude. And they call me the nerd?"

It was Dean's turn to scoff. "Shut up."

"Well, I'm ready to go." I said as I left the bathroom and stuffed my bedclothes into my duffel.

"About time." Dean smirked at my 'recycle' shirt.

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

"Yeah, guys been knockin' each other senseless for years in that joint. Gets a little loud, but hey. We get a lot of business from next door." Tish, a young woman with curly blond hair, shrugged at us from behind the counter of her mother's deli. The little shop sat right next to the club we were hoping to visit later tonight, when it opened.

"Something off about the club or is that about normal?" Sam asked. The three of us sat on barstools at the counter, sandwiches for each being eaten very slowly, so we had time to interrogate Tish without her becoming suspicious.

"Uh, well, not really anything weird, I don't think. Just an old brick building. Cheap décor. Cheap booze. Loud music. Mostly terrible dance mixes that I can hear through the walls. Gets annoying after a while. The owner, Ricci, he's pretty sketchy but don't tell anyone I said that. Honestly, I'm not surprised Bareski disappeared. Dyne is Ricci's second cousin's son-in-law. Don't ask me how all that works; he's family and that's all Ricci seems to care about. Typical Italian patriarch. Fiercely protective." Tish paused in her preparation of another patron's sandwich and leaned in toward us with her voice lowered. "I think Ricci had Bareski taken, or roughed up or something. I haven't seen the guy in a long time. Used to be a regular here."

"Bareski was the man who attacked Dyne at the club, right?" Sam asked. Dean took another huge bite of his sandwich and returned his attention to the task at hand as he chewed.

"Yeah. And now Dyne's gone too. Left a cute little three month old and his wife a couple towns over. She put ads in the paper and everything lookin' for him. Says it's not like him to just run off. But honestly, is it really like any married man to just 'run off'?"

"Some guys can't handle kids. Or don't want to deal with them." Dean said, mouth half full of a meatball sub. My chest tightened up at his words, but come on girl. This is your first case. Don't screw up!

"Yeah, well Dyne was crazy about that little guy. Constantly showing him off and taking pictures. Sad to think his kid might not know him." Tish frowned and shrugged. "Not much I can do about it though. Police already talked to me about his disappearin'."

Sad to think his kid might not know him.

I had to remind myself to breathe.

"What was Dyne like?" Sam asked, his sandwich mostly forgotten.

"Combative ass right before he went missing?" Dean asked with another mouthful. I took a small nibble of my sandwich to look busy. My head was still reeling with anxiety over the parallels that I couldn't help but draw between Dyne's baby and mine. Both probably wouldn't know their fathers.

It's better this way…

"Y'know, usually Dyne was a real sweetheart. All smiles and politeness. But a few days before he disappeared, he looked real shook up and mad. Like everybody he saw was out to get 'im. A buddy a his told my friend, who told me that he went bat-shit cra- oh, pardon my French- he went nuts in the club the night of his disappearance. Knocked some poor kid off his barstool and kicked the guy in the head before they pulled him away. Ran like a bat outta hell when the bartender yelled at him. Nobody's seen him since." Tish finished another sandwich and yelled out the patron's number.

"Do you know the kid was?" Dean asked, putting extra concern into the expression he saved for pretty girls. Tish had fallen for it as soon as he ordered his sandwich.

"No, sorry. Orem isn't exactly a small place and the club attracts more than just townies. Coulda been anyone, really." Tish said as she looked Dean up and down. Dean winked at her.

"Did they say what he looked like?" Sam interrupted, ignoring the interaction between the two.

Tish turned her attention, somewhat painfully, from Dean to Sam with a confused expression. "Why you wanna know? Thought you was just passin' through."

"We might stick around a while." Dean smiled at Tish and she blushed, letting loose a small smirk of her own.

"Our friend has gone missing and we think he was at that club just before we lost contact." Sam lied. "We're trying to find him before he gets in more trouble."

"I'd be glad to have you back sometime." Tish smiled, but only at Dean. "Especially you, Meatballs."

Dean grinned at her. "Sure thing, sweetheart. Maybe I'll get to bring my friend next time. What did you say that kid looked like? I must have missed it. Got lost in those seas of blue..."

Tish blushed again and rolled her blue eyes. "Jimmy- my friend- told me he was a scrawny little redhead, probably as tall as me. Poor Jimmy was on the stool next to 'im when Dyne lobbed him one. I'm just glad Jimmy didn't get busted up." Her face turned to one of worry and she grimaced. "He won't go back to that club. Used to be his favorite hangout. Feel bad for the guy."

"Would your friend know his name?" Sam asked eagerly. "Or where he went after the fight?"

"Jim-bo didn't get the kid's name. A lotta people ran when the bartender threatened to call the cops. Jimmy has… a bit of a record. Not my place to tell what, but… let's just say he shouldn't be near any more trouble than he's already in." Tish looked away from us and wiped a rag down the counter next to us.

"Gotcha." Dean nodded as he pulled out his wallet. He laid one bill down on the counter as he stood. Sam and I followed suit, waiting for Dean at the door. "We're on kind of a tight schedule, but don't worry. I'll be back."

I could have sworn Tish sighed once Dean's back was turned.

Out on the sidewalk, Sam spoke up. "So you have a plan." The statement was sure and laced with curiosity.

"Gotta be some security cameras around, right? Maybe we can see who Redhead lays into. He wasn't in any of the articles or reports I found earlier and we need to know how he plays into this." Dean said, scanning the streets. A few people were out walking. It was late in the morning after all; most of them had coffee cups in their hands.

"Think he took out Carpenter?" Sam asked, positioning himself between me and the road on the wide sidewalk. Dean, on my other side, glanced down every alley we passed, pulling just ahead of us to make sure the path was clear. If I didn't know what was out there, I would say these two were paranoid.

"Possibly. Could be another link in the chain though. The club might not have reported minor altercations, remember?" Dean said.

"Then how do we get our hands on the security footage?" I asked, speaking for the first time in probably half an hour.

"Sammy." Dean smirked, sending a shit-eating grin at his brother, who rolled his eyes.

"I'll try to hack it, but sometimes security cameras are on closed loops. No access to the internet, no way to hack. We'll see what we can dig up tonight and if we strike out, we'll just break in tomorrow morning." Sam said with a sigh.

"Break in?" I asked, surprised. "As in pick locks and sneak around and steal stuff?"

"Yes, yes, yes, and no. We don't need to steal the footage. Just get a good look at it." Dean said evenly. "We don't break things either, if we can help it."

"Leave it cleaner than when you came." Sam said.

"That was the only thing we got out of our time with the Boy Scouts." Dean said. "Bet they never thought it'd be used as a way to avoid identification at a crime scene."

"Okay. Good to know." I said, somewhat breathlessly. This was more than I had expected. And they talked about it so lightly.

What had I gotten myself into?

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

It was dark on the sidewalk now and the crowds of people milling the streets were totally different from earlier this morning. Instead of coffee cups, many people clung to each other, laughing drunkenly as they went from bar to bar. As we approached the club, my stomach fell at the line that had formed out the door. At least fifty people waited ahead of us, chatting impatiently with friends or staring at their phones.

"Are we even gonna be able to get in tonight?" I asked the guys. We'd spent the day trying to get into the cameras, but as Sam had suspected, they were on a closed loop. Tapes, old cameras, no internet needed. I wondered if we still had to break in tomorrow; the thought gave me a deep feeling of dread. Never in my life had I thought I'd have to break into a night club.

"Why do you think this shirt is so tight?" Dean grumbled as he lead us on the sidewalk.

"We have our ways, Ali. Just follow our lead and… try to stay close." Sam said as he wound his arm around my shoulders. I blushed, but I knew this was all part of our cover. Just before leaving the motel, we'd decided that Sam and I would act as a couple so we could more easily talk to any couples there, and Dean would play the slightly drunk single guy who would undoubtedly get answers from any female in the place.

As we approached the end of the line, I noticed that the clothes I was wearing seemed to fit in perfectly. A very short, deep blue, sparkling thrift-store-find of a dress, with black heels that were low enough to run in and a black choker that was tied so loosely that it would tear away with the slightest tug. I even had makeup on. First time in a while… that I had put it on voluntarily, at least. Francesca loved makeup. I shivered at the thought.

Dean glanced back at us as he powered past the end of the line and barked a laugh at me with mischief in his eyes. "Are you blushing?"

"I'm wearing blush, dude. You were there when I put it on." I snapped. It was true, but also a good cover, as I was actually blushing like crazy. I kept pulling at the hem of my dress to keep from giving the people in line a show. They were already giving the three of us dirty looks. "What exactly is our plan?" I asked quietly just before we made it to the door, where an intimidating bouncer stood with his arms crossed.

"Line starts back there." The man said, nodding in the direction we'd just come.

Dean put on his best 'believe me' smile and made a gesture of surrender by raising his hands. "I know, I know. It's just that Zio Marco never made me wait before." He stood confidently, waiting for the man to step aside. "You are gonna let us in, right?" The man remained stiff. Dean shrugged. "Guess I'll just have to tell him they wouldn't let me in."

"Get to the back of the line or leave."

"You're really gonna send me away from Zio Marco's place of business?" Dean glared accusingly.

"Why should I believe that you're Signore Ricci's nephew? You know how many punks use that same excuse?" The bouncer growled.

Dean chuckled and motioned for us to come closer. "I'm not his nephew. I'm his cousin's son. Just call 'im Zio Marco cuz he helped raise me. These are my cousins, Desiree and Francis. Told 'em they would get to see Zio tonight. It's been a while, y'know?" Dean took a pause to glance inside the doors. "Supposed to meet him soon."

"Signore Ricci is at a business meeting at the moment." The bouncer smirked. "Poked a hole in your story, didn't I? Oops."

"What?" Dean asked, painting a confused look on his face. "We're meeting him for dinner this week. This is just a quick visit. We were just dropping in for a couple minutes to chat after his meeting."

The bouncer frowned. "I don't believe you."

Dean donned that dangerous smile he used when he was secretly threatening someone. "Check your list, culo. Gio Abile."

Without breaking eye contact, the man reached behind him and produced a small notebook. His eyes grew slightly wider when he flipped a page, but the rest of his expression didn't change. "I need to see some ID." He asked flatly.

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet, removing what appeared to be a Utah driver's license. He handed the man the card. The bouncer huffed at it after scrutinizing every detail for several seconds. "Apologies, Signore Abile. You and your… cousins can go right in."

"What did you say your name was?" Dean asked, taking a step closer to the man. The big bouncer, who stood just an inch or so taller than Dean, leaned away.

"Steve." The man said quietly.

"I'll mention you to Zio Marco, Steve. C'mon cugini." Dean waved at us to enter, waiting until we were through the door to follow us with a confident strut in his step.

"How did you manage that?" I hissed in amazement as we walked through a hall that was already filled with echoes of loud music.

"Research, Li. Research." Dean said, scanning the area as we approached a large black door. Bright lights were flashing occasionally from under it, but the door itself was rather foreboding. "Use the names I said earlier. Never your real name, especially you, Desi." Dean pointed a finger at me.

"Got it." I murmured, unsure about what was going to happen next.

"Remember, stay close." Sam said, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I tugged at the hem of my dress and swallowed hard against my choker.

 **A/N: Sorry again for the wait. Hope to have more soon!**


	23. Francis, Gio, and Desi have a Tiny Tiff

**A/N: Vivi here! I've written it, so here it is! I'm still trying to do at least one chapter a week. We'll see how that goes... Enjoy!**

 **FPFPFPFPFP**

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Use the names I said earlier. Never your real name, especially you, Desi." Dean pointed a finger at me._

 _"Got it." I murmured, unsure about what was going to happen next._

 _"Remember, stay close." Sam said, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I tugged at the hem of my dress and swallowed hard against my choker._

 **FPFPFPFPFP**

The hall was filled with brilliant flashes of blue and pink and red and yellow as Dean shoved the door open. Deafening dance music assaulted my ears and a small sea of people in various states of drunkenness bobbed around the dancefloor or congregated at the bar. The room itself was just as Tish the sandwich shop girl had described it. Cheap décor, cheap booze. I could smell the latter already.

"Meet back here at one." Dean said over the music, nearly shouting and yet I could barely hear him. Sam glanced at his watch and nodded before Dean made his way to the bar and we pushed through the crowd to find someone to talk to.

"I-I'm not good at talking to people, Sa- Francis." I said, my nervous eyes darting from face to face as a puddle of anxiety became an ocean in my chest. "What if they recognize me?" Visions of newscasts featuring my face and judgy news anchors telling of the horrors Francesca committed while possessing me danced vividly around my head, mocking me. I couldn't get caught; I'd have the death penalty for sure. I didn't know how far the hunter community went, but I was sure it didn't go far enough to get me out of maximum security.

"They won't. I'll talk. And don't worry; I'm here. I'll be with you the whole time. You're safe with me." Sam said into my ear. I got goosebumps as his warm breath brushed my skin, but his words were what I tried to focus on. I could rely on Sam. Sweet, steady Sam. He'd never let me get hurt, if he could help it.

The couples we talked to were sloppily drunk and just as sloppily all over each other. I almost gagged. The only things they could verbalize were that the drinks were cheap and they loved each other. Also, they loved half the people in the club. And one man actually fell over while we were talking to him, much to the amusement of his date, who spilled her drink on him while she laughed.

"This is pointless." I grumbled after what felt like hours, crossing my arms as we left the cackling blonde. My feet, which hadn't worn heels in months, were starting to ache, and the discount makeup I wore felt cakey and it was _so annoying_.

"Yeah, but someone has to know who that guy was." Sam said as he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking over everyone's heads for our next target. "He must have had friends. We just need to find them."

Over the roar of the music, the drunken laughter, and the shouted conversations I heard something softer that didn't sound like anything that should be in this kind of place. Without hesitation, I dove through the crowd, away from Sam, in search of the noise. My curiosity spiked as I pushed sweaty bodies out of my way and was pushed in return. Eventually I made it to the edge of the room, where small, semi-private booths lined the walls. Walking past each one slowly, I heard the noise again and rushed toward the booth it came from.

A dark haired woman with heavy eyeliner and black mascara was sobbing, tears leaving black trails down her otherwise pale face. Her dress was a mix of reds and oranges, and was only slightly longer than mine, but with wide shoulder straps where mine had none. The neckline was even starting to turn black as her big, rolling, makeup filled tears fell. She was sitting with another woman who looked to be trying desperately to comfort her, and a man on the other side of the table who had his face in his hands, not moving.

Why would someone dress up and come to a club only to cry and make a scene? _Some people just need a lot of attention._ I thought to myself with a small roll of the eyes. Then, as I was about to walk away and find Sam again, an idea popped into my head. Maybe this group knew the man. If they were comfortable enough here to make a scene like this, maybe they were regulars. Maybe they'd seen the fight.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked, coming to stand closer to the crying woman. "What's wrong?"

"Everything!" The woman sobbed loudly, making a few patrons on the dancefloor turn and grimace in our direction.

 _And action._ I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes as the scene began to unfold.

"Leave us alone. Her boyfriend just killed himself." The other woman said, her face and voice hard. "We don't need you."

"I'm so sorry. I-I just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt…" I stammered, unsure as to what I should be saying in that situation. I'd mentally accused the woman of being a needy attention hog and now I felt guilty because she was actually sad. My palms started to sweat. I never was very good at talking to strangers. Manipulating them, sure, but having a lengthy conversation was not my strong-suit. Touchy-feely stuff with people I didn't know gave me anxiety and made my stomach clench.

"No, Beth, leave her alone." The crying woman pushed on Beth, who only backed off a little. Then, she turned to me with her nose running out of control. "He 'as a good man. Sweet an' caring an' smart an' h-handsome with those glasses an' that hair an' h-he never fought with anyone, ever. Well, 'cept that guy who shoved him at the b-bar." The woman sobbed a few more times before wiping her nose on her arm, leaving a disgusting trail of black makeup and runny snot, which she ignored afterwards.

"Who shoved him? Must have been a grade A jerk." I said, trying hard to fake sympathy. The woman was so drunk that it worked.

"It was this asshat named Dyne, I think. Real high and m-mighty, thought he owned the place. He don't own squat…" The woman sniffed hard and even over the music, I heard the snot move in her nose. I had to suppress a shiver of disgust. Why, why had I left Sam and run off? He could get the information we needed with just a glance of those eyes and a quirk of that classic sympathetic smile.

"That's terrible. What was your boyfriend's name? We should toast his memory." I said, pretending to be a little tipsy in hopes that it would help the woman trust me more. A sneaking suspicion that her friend could be our man made me feel a little more brave. I could do this without Sam or Dean. I was a member of the team and I was going to contribute no matter what.

"Raphy. Raphy Stilts. Love 'a my life, fire to my smoke. Cuz y'know, I got this smoky hair an' he had this fiery hair an' our babies would've had like… black hair cuz coals, y'know? Right?" The woman looked up to me, eyes still tearful, and I nodded even though that's not how genetics work and her nose was still running and her makeup was making my eye twitch and _why are you still here if your boyfriend just killed himself?_

"To Raphy, then." I said, raising my hand and my pretend glass, hoping the woman wouldn't notice that I actually didn't have a drink.

"To Raphy." The woman said, lifting her very real and nearly empty glass. The man still didn't move, and Beth, the other woman, narrowed her eyes at me. After we drank (and pretended to drink), the woman sobbed again and said "Can't ever go back to Squaw 'gain. Gonna give up 'iking."

"Squaw?" I asked, confused.

"Go away, bitch." Beth growled. "Can't you see she's mourning?"

"I just want to know what Squa-" I ducked as Beth threw her nearly empty glass at my head. It hit someone behind me and fell to the floor, shattering. Adrenaline rushed through me and quickly got lost in the crowd, not wanting to face the consequences of Beth's actions. Sweaty people cursed and shoved at me as I pushed past, but eventually I made it to the bar, far from where the 'mourning' and now shouting and cursing were happening.

It took me a minute to catch my breath and come down from the panic and anxiety of the interaction. Eventually, I found myself in a corner of the room where there were slightly less people to bump into. I had room to breathe for the first time since getting into this flashy, dark, loud, smelly room.

My eyes closed as I leaned against a wall on my shoulder to take some weight off of my aching feet. Thoughts began to flow shortly thereafter. _So Dyne attacks Stilts. Dyne turns up missing, and now Stilts is dead. But… shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't Dyne be dead and Stilts be missing? This doesn't fit that pattern Dean found at all. Maybe… maybe Dyne_ is _dead but no one has found his body yet. That would make more sense. I'll bet a lot of the victims haven't been found yet. And whatever is killing them makes it look like suicide. Now if only I knew what Squaw was…_ I thought, frustrated. A glance back at the booth where Beth had been revealed a heated argument between Beth and the man who had been hit by her glass when I ducked. _Karma, bitch._ I couldn't help but grin bitterly.

"Desi." Someone spoke behind me and I jumped a little before whirling around.

"Francis." I sighed in relief at the sight of Sam and brought my hand to my heart to try and stop its adrenaline induced pounding. I wasn't up for another confrontation just yet.

"Where were you?" Sam asked, his arms crossed. His face was colored with anger and concern. "You could've gotten hurt, or worse." So much for avoiding another confrontation. "We were supposed to stick together on this one."

"I know, but I'm a grown ass woman, Franny." I said, irritated by his irritation. "It's not like I'm the only single woman here. There are people everywhere. Literally everywhere. What did you think could've happened?" I snapped, crossing my own arms.

"Someone could have attacked you. Drugged you. Kidnapped you. Need I go on? This place isn't safe. For anyone." Sam frowned, then leaned in closer and spoke in a voice only I could hear in the loud room. "Especially with people already turning up dead."

"Alright, I get it." I rolled my eyes. "Stay close to the protector, princess. You can't be wandering alone in this world of men."

"World of monsters." Sam corrected. "I know you can hold your own against men."

"Whatever."

Sam huffed but moved closer to close off our conversation from the tipsy couple next to us. They seemed as curious as they were unsteady on their feet. "Was your venture productive? Did you find anyone who knows our guy?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. His name is- was Raphy Stilts. Found his girlfriend. Apparently he killed himself and the police found him today. The girl started talking about something called Squaw, but her friend threw a drink at my head before I could ask what it was." I scanned the room; a habit I picked up from the guys. Beth and the man were still arguing and now had a ring of onlookers surrounding them. I glanced at the bar and noticed the black haired woman who was bartending was equally as interested in the altercation as I. She hovered near a phone on the wall while preparing drinks and seemed to have her eyes glued to Beth and the man.

"Stilts. Good. Maybe now we can figure out how he fits into all this." Sam glanced down at his watch. "We'd better get back to the door. Gio should be there."

"It's one already?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, we've been looking for you for like twenty minutes." Sam said with a hint of frustration in his tone. "C'mon."

Sam took my wrist and I let him plow through the crowd towards the exit with me in tow. People moved much more willingly for him than they had for me.

Sure enough, Dean was waiting there for us, casually talking to a blonde in a dress shorter than mine. I noticed his eyes flick over the groups of people who were leaving; it was an action I'd seen before. He was looking for something, but being discreet about it.

"Gio." Sam called, acting a little drunk to blend in and not blow our cover in front of the woman. "Wassup?"

"Hey Francis. Oh, there she is." I stepped out from behind Sam as soon as the space opened up. People walked past and between us as we talked. "Vanessa, these are my cousins Franny and Desi." Dean made a grand motion towards us and the woman swayed on her feet before smiling and waving wildly with one hand, spilling a bit of the drink that was held in her other.

"Gio, Desi's ready to go. You comin'?" Sam asked, keeping a tight grip on my hand as a flood of college age boys rushed into the room, brushing past us and knocking into me. I was glad I hadn't worn higher heels.

"Yeah. Catch you later, Vanessa." Dean winked at the woman, who tried and failed to wink back as we pushed our way out the big black doors. As soon as they shut behind us, my ears were ringing and my head ached from the sudden quiet. I squeezed my eyes shut against the bright hall light and found that the world was spinning a little when I opened them. Luckily I only stumbled once on our way out to the car. Blamed it on my heels and aching feet.

No one made a sound until we closed the doors and sealed ourselves in the Impala. Then Dean turned around and stared me into the leather of the seat. There was accusation in both the green of his eyes and the depth of his voice as he spoke. "You left your phone in the car."

I glanced down at the seat beside me and sure enough, there sat my cheap little flip phone, with a message on the front that told me I had eight missed calls and five texts. Embarrassed blush covered my cheeks as I read the messages. Sam told Dean when I went missing and they both had tried to contact me for at least twenty minutes. From the tone of the messages, I could tell they had assumed the worst. For all I knew, they were minutes away from jumping on tables and calling my name over the crowd. No wonder Dean had already been at the door. If someone had tried to take me, there was no way they were getting out with me in tow.

"Sorry." I whispered, unable to even look in their direction. _Rookie mistake._

The ride back to the motel was silent. We were all tired. Our clothes were too tight. My feet ached. My neck hurt from the choker. I had somehow gotten mascara in my eye. Why would anyone make a habit of going to places like that? Tears of joy nearly leapt from my eyes as I took the choker and shoes off, tossing them to the floor of the car. I was almost asleep by the time we pulled up to the motel and Dean cut the engine. I grabbed my shoes and carried them into the room, fully intent on going directly to bed.

"What'd you find out?" Sam asked as soon as Dean had locked the door. I paused in the doorway to the bathroom, then grabbed a washcloth and returned to sit on a bed.

"Well, got nothin' on the kid but Carpenter attacked a man named Gregory Matthias. That was a couple days ago, in the club. Bartender called the cops but Matthias ran off before he could be positively identified, and no one was willing to out him to the cops, even though he was the victim. Apparently he's on parole for a previous assault. Also a bar fight. Rumor has it he slept with a woman who was engaged. Fiancé took it out on him with a pool cue." Dean scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed. "I still have no clue what could be causing this stuff. Or where Carpenter is. What about you two? Did you get any info before we went into panic mode with the Invisible Woman?"

"I didn't, but Ali got something when she ran off." Sam said, sitting opposite me on the other bed. I paused in wiping the caked foundation off of my face.

"So you didn't just want to give us grief, then? You actually did something on your little adventure?" Dean asked, sitting next to Sam and kicking his shoes off.

I set my bitchface and glared at Dean. "I found the kid's girlfriend. She was crying. He killed himself, or so the police told her."

"Kid got a name?" Dean asked, unphased by my expression.

"Raphy Stilts." I said. "Now if you'll excuse me, this dress is chafing in places I didn't know could chafe and there's makeup in my eye. Sam can fill you in on the rest if you're still curious." I stood and tugged my dress back down to a level that would cover the goods before storming off to the bathroom and closing the door harder than I needed to.

Shortly after I'd managed to get all the makeup off, there was a knock at my door. "Hey, you're with me tonight. Don't forget. I'm hittin' the sack."

"What?" I asked, confused and slightly annoyed.

"We're taking turns with sleeping accommodations, remember? You're with me tonight." Dean said quietly. Sam must have already gone to bed.

"Oh, right." I said, recalling that conversation.

"You're on the side between beds. Don't go crawling all over my side and wakin' me up. Got it?" Dean asked. "I need my four hours."

"Right. Got it." I grumbled. Why couldn't I just sleep in Sam's bed the whole time? Oh right. Because we were trying to keep it a secret from Dean. I sighed and unzipped my dress. Yes, hiding it was frustrating, but we decided long ago that the teasing and pranking from Dean could easily go out of control if he knew we were together. And I wasn't about to stumble into that shit-show.

My ears were still ringing by the time the shower was turned off and I wrapped myself in a towel. I finally felt clean and free of other people's sweat. My dress didn't stink yet, so I just hung it up and hoped for the best.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I realized I hadn't brought any clothes into the bathroom with me. Again.

This was becoming a bad habit.

 _Stupid stupid stupid…_ I grumbled, cursing myself. _Can't keep forgetting the details. Like clothes, or sticking with Sam on a case…_

Defeated, I tugged open the bathroom door and stumbled over something just outside the threshold. Apparently the guys had already officially turned in for the night. With the light from the bathroom, I looked down and realized that I'd stumbled over my own sleep shirt and shorts.

Someone had set them out for me knowing I forgot them.

A tiny grin settled on my lips as I changed and turned out the lights, blindly pawing my way to the bed closest to the door, then sitting carefully on the edge between the beds. Dean was easy to wake when out on cases, I'd noticed. Not disturbing him as I settled into bed seemed like a perfect Olympic dive, the ones where they try to make the smallest splash possible. He didn't make a sound. No splash.

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I'll post the next one as soon as I can. Leave a review! And I'd like some names for the baby... If I like it, I might use it!**


	24. Security Cameras

**A/N: Vivi here! Been a while, I know. Sorry. This is a long chapter to make up for it (hopefully). Thinking about starting a new (unrelated) SPN story about a doppelganger. Maybe. Ideas are bouncing around but haven't gotten into order yet.**

 **I had a message earlier about timelines and I wanted to clear some things up. Internal Medicine, the story before this one, starts in 2010, right around season 5. I've changed the timeline a bit so that they got into the bunker earlier. This story follows the same timeline as IM. Hope that clears everything up!**

 **Anyway, gotta go! Happy 4th of July, y'all!**

 **FPFPFPFPFP**

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _Dean was easy to wake when out on cases, I'd noticed. Not disturbing him as I settled into bed seemed like a perfect Olympic dive, the ones where they try to make the smallest splash possible. He didn't make a sound. No splash._

 **FPFPFPFPFPFPFP**

Sometime in the night, I woke up sweating. Not uncommon nowadays, given my current state of being, but something was sticking to my skin. I tried to roll over and pry the sheets off of me, but the sheets were much heavier than I anticipated.

"Nmmm…" A deep grumble warned me not to move again. It was then that I realized I had one strong band of an arm over my stomach, under my shirt, and Dean was _very close_. So close I could feel his breath on my neck. He was on his stomach next to me, not touching me aside from the arm and hand that entrapped my stomach and side as I lay on my back.

My thoughts raced back to Bobby's house when Dean had that nightmare and left a not so subtle bruise on Sam's jaw for trying to wake him. A blow like that could have deadly consequences in my situation. Instead of trying to pull away, I just pushed the blankets down off of me to stop the sweating.

 _Better to stay still until he moves away on his own._ I thought. _He won't hurt me. Probably._

An uneasy sleep came after a few minutes when Dean didn't move an inch. However, the next morning was not so smooth.

"Dean?" A voice broke the silence and startled me into lifting my eyelids. The room was bright; someone had turned the light on.

A muffled groan was all that came from beside me, but Dean flexed his arm and ended up pulling me closer. I wondered why he would do that, but then I saw that his eyes were still contentedly shut, his face as tranquil as I'd seen it since he was de-aged. The difference from his wakeful state was jarring; going from this peaceful to as tense and on edge as Dean usually was had to be a difficult transition to make every single day.

Sam came to sit on the bed next to me. He didn't try to wake Dean again. "He does this sometimes." Sam said quietly, with a mischievous grin on his face. Before I could stop him, Sam snapped a photo on his phone and tucked it away.

"Dude, really?" I hissed. "You're gonna sit there taking pictures while I'm stuck here? What if he freaks out before he wakes up? You had a nasty bruise, remember? I don't want that." My stomach was already in knots at the thought of waking Dean up. It didn't matter how relaxed and calm he looked now; I knew he could turn in an instant and I didn't want to lose anyone by being careless.

"Don't worry. When he gets close like this he relaxes. He'll never tell you but he loves physical contact. Like _craves_ it. You've got a better chance of falling out of bed than of him hurting you as he wakes up. Watch." Sam said. Then, before I could protest, he reached over and shook Dean's shoulder. "Dean, rise and shine. You gonna sleep all day?"

"Go 'way." Dean mumbled, pulling me still closer.

My eyes wide, I looked to Sam because apparently he knew what to do. He just smiled and whispered, "Run your nails _lightly_ over his arm. That'll wake him up without scaring him. He told me Dad used to do that to wake him up when he was little."

My nerves on high alert, I scratched my nails gently over his arm and sure enough, he lifted his head lazily, his expression one of confusion. "Li? Wha… why are you so close? Personal space, man. Er, wo-man." I ran my nails over his arm again and he glanced down at it. "Oh." He stared at his arm for a few more seconds before dragging it back to his side, his fingertips leaving little trails of goosebumps under my shirt. Luckily, only I could tell since my shirt fell back into place as he retreated. Dean groaned as he rolled back to his side of the queen bed.

"Club should be closed and empty by now." Sam said, standing to rummage through his duffel. "Supplies don't start coming in for another three hours. We have two hours before employees start showing up. We'll need all the time we can get to run through those tapes."

"Got it." Dean said, hauling himself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. I sat up and stretched, my back popping in relief from the position I stayed in for so long. Yet another night of restless sleep…

The ride to the club was uneventful. We parked a few blocks away and got coffee (and a hot chocolate for me, no caffeine as per Dr. Cas) at a local shop before strolling towards our target. We blended in well; there were plenty of folks with coffee in hand walking to or from their jobs at this hour. Most also wore light coats against the morning chill, so our jackets and my old hoodie blended in well.

"So how does this work?" I asked, trailing behind the brothers as we walked.

"I don't know. I would think coffee would do more for ya, but maybe all that chocolaty sludge will perk you up enough to work and stick with us this time." Dean said.

"Enough with the drinks, Dean. I just wanted hot chocolate. You wanted coffee. You don't see me whining about it. You know who whines? Babies." I snapped.

Dean shot me a dirty look over his shoulder. He hadn't dropped the subject since we left the coffee shop nearly five minutes ago and it was starting to piss my sleep deprived brain off. "Fine. We find a back entrance, pick the lock, get to the security room or whatever, and look at the tapes. Then we leave. Simple."

"Hopefully we can watch three recordings on high speed at the same time. I brought our laptops. We should be able to link them up without the chance of being traced." Sam said. "We don't have much time to go over all the footage since the attack on Dyne, and there are undoubtedly several cameras to go through."

"Why do we have to start with Dyne getting attacked?" I asked, then sipped my drink. It burned my tongue, but then again, I burned my tongue every time I had hot chocolate. Just like I got sunburn every time I went to the beach. There was no avoiding it.

"It's our only confirmed date and time, since the police haven't been called up there in a while. Stilts could have been attacked any time after that, and Carpenter any time after him. We don't even know who got to Carpenter, much less when. Attacks could be three days in a row, could be a week or more between them." Dean said shortly. I could tell he was still annoyed.

"Once we find when Stilts was attacked, we can focus more on identifying who Stilts chose to go after, and then who got into it with Carpenter. See if we can find a pattern." Sam said. "Monsters and curses are all about patterns."

"So it could be a curse?" I asked, curious. Bobby taught me a few common curses and how to counter them, but this didn't sound like any I'd ever learned.

"Maybe. We need more information though. Something more to go off of than fights and disappearances." Sam said as he scanned the area around us. As soon as we came up to the alley beside the club, we ducked in and crowded around a solid-looking metal door. Dean picked the lock faster than I imagined anyone could and we were soon inside a dark hall.

"Stick together 'til we find what we're lookin' for." Dean said, putting his lock pick kit back in his pocket.

It didn't take us long to locate the room with Security written in big white letters on it's black, slightly dented door. Sam opened it this time, just as quickly as Dean would have.

It wasn't a room, exactly. More like a glorified closet. The three of us barely fit in the room, which already contained a worn office chair, one old monitor, a sad looking recording device, and plenty of wires running up the wall, unrestrained, towards a conduit pipe. There were several photos tacked to the walls, probably of folks who were banned from the club. One of the walls was entirely made up of disc cases on a neat little rack, each with a meticulously labeled camera number, as well as a date and time range.

"So which ones do we have to go through?" I asked. A few minutes later I was on Sam's laptop, seated on the floor with Dean, who had his laptop, going through the footage from the time Dyne was attacked. Sam had the monitor screen split so he could watch two feeds at once. There were about seven cameras and countless hours of dull activity to wade through. Four of the cameras were in the main room though, so we only had to go through four or five of the views to catch all the 'action'.

 _This is hunting?_ I grumbled as I stared at the back alley camera's footage. I watched as delivery trucks came and went, drunks threw up behind the dumpster, and couples did inappropriate things. I sped through those parts and tried not to gag. There was nothing suspicious about the alley on the first tape I watched. Or the second. Or the fifth. Or the eleventh. In fact, I was on the fourteenth tape before anyone found anything.

"I got Dyne attacking Stilts." Sam said, his voice rough from disuse. We'd been here for an hour already. Dean and I looked up from our screens to see a slightly blurry black and white version of the bar loaded with people. I noticed that the same bartender who'd been there yesterday had been there that night too. In the video, she handed Dyne a drink, then got Stilts a beer and walked away to help another customer. Shortly after she walked away, Dyne turned his head to stare at Stilts for a good few seconds before shoving him off his barstool, standing, and kicking Stilts in the head. The bartender rushed over and yelled at him from behind the bar, pointing to the door. Dyne tore out, leaving Stilts bleeding and holding his nose on the floor.

"So that confirms what we already know." Dean said. "Let's see who Stilts goes after."

Half an hour later, I was on my… well, I lost count of how many alley tapes I'd watched so far. I was about to call it quits on the alley tapes when I saw a familiar face stumbling backwards into frame. The only image I'd seen of Nathan Carpenter had been his missing persons poster online. However, he had an unmistakable beard with a very well-groomed mustache. I knew as soon as I saw the blurry image that it was him.

"Guys, I found Carpenter." I said quietly, entranced by the scene before me. Carpenter seemed to be fighting with someone just out of frame. Glancing at the timestamp on the screen, I saw that it was just after the club had closed, in the wee hours of the morning. No wonder the police weren't called. The club was closed and the attack didn't even happen inside. "But I can't see who he's fighting with."

"Is there another camera in that alley?" Sam asked, turning to see the screen I was showing Dean.

"Not that they keep regular recordings on. Looks like it went out of commission two years ago." Dean said as he looked through the disc cases on the wall behind him. "That one's all we got."

Watching the fight was torture. Sometimes I would see the assailant's fist and sometimes the fight would be completely out of frame. There was no sound at all, so I'm sure the guys heard every excited gasp or anguished groan I emitted as Carpenter and the other person moved about. It was a long fight. Fifteen minutes at least. The tape ended with Carpenter being thrown to the ground well inside the camera's frame of view and the assailant going to stand over him, lifting his foot over Carpenter's head.

I groaned loudly as the disc ended, but quickly replaced it with the next one and pressed play. The same scene came up and I breathed a sigh of relief. I watched as Carpenter deflected the first attempt at stomping his brains out. He tried to roll away but the attacker, who still hadn't turned to face the camera yet, stopped him with a leg on either side.

I jumped when the back door flew open on my tiny screen and the bartender poked her head out. She looked around for a second before seeming to shout at the attacker. The man turned to run back in the direction he'd come and I finally saw his face.

"Stilts attacked Carpenter." I said excitedly. "There wasn't another person in the chain."

"Good cuz we're running out of time here." Dean said as he checked his watch. "We need to find the sucker Carpenter jumped. Matthias was his name, I think. Greg Matthias. Got attacked on the dancefloor no more than four days ago. Or so that drunk chick told me."

"Vanessa?" I asked, recalling the woman from last night.

"Yeah. I'm surprised you remembered her name." Dean said as the three of us swapped out discs to jump to footage from five days before now instead of a week or more.

"She made a great first impression. What can I say?" I said flatly.

Dean smirked. "Most of the time rookies miss details like that." He started another episode of 'Club Crime' while I was still waiting for mine to load.

"Does this mean I'm not a rookie anymore?" I asked casually as I started my own episode. The blurry black and white footage began bobbing with the drunken throng on the dancefloor in a very predictable, mind-numbing way. Especially on high speed.

"Nope." Dean said. "Everybody gets lucky now and then."

I rolled my eyes to myself before quickly looking back to the footage I was supposed to be monitoring. "Whatever."

It was another few minutes of silence before Sam spoke up. "Do we know what Matthias looks like?"

"I found him on the big FB last night. Crazy curly hair, longer than yours, built like an ox, always seems to be wearing wifebeaters." Dean said, eyes glued to his screen. "Seems like the kind to bar brawl."

"I found him." Sam said. "That girl was right. Carpenter goes after him on the dancefloor, near the bar."

"How's the fight go?" Dean asked. "Anything weird?"

"Uh, no. Fist fight. No knives or guns or anything. Not even a broken bottle. No weird eyes, no glowing, no hex bags. No one in the rest of the club, that I can see at least, is acting funny. I didn't see any unusual marks on the floor or walls last night, and I don't see any now on the video. Seems like just a regular, human beat-down." Sam said, shrugging. "They look off screen at the end of it, like the bouncer showed up or something. Carpenter takes off and heads for the exit. Matthias gets lost in the crowd; I can't track him."

"That's all we needed to know. Let's go pay Greg a visit, shall we?" Dean said, shutting his laptop.

"Can't do that yet. One of us can't dress like the others, remember?" Sam said as he put all the tapes back into their original places.

"Right." Dean looked me up and down. "Good thing I got us a new card."

FPFPFPFPFPFPFPFP

My mind was on overload as we entered the indoor mall. I was excited, antsy, nervous, and terrified. _I can finally go shopping again! Clothes will actually fit me right for the first time in months! Remember girl, we don't have all day, so be efficient. And don't let anyone recognize you. Don't look directly into security cameras, leave the hat on, don't hover around the guys. The last thing they need to be named accomplices under my 'murder' charges._

I was in my own little world when Sam tapped on my shoulder and turned me around. "Meet back at the car no later than noon." He said, smiling widely. As he spoke, he continued smiling and made gestures that confused me a little. "If you get into trouble, call us. Or if it's more of an emergency, pull the fire alarm and meet us at the car or wherever. Just call us when you get away."

"Hopefully you'll blend in." Dean said lightheartedly, shrugging. He too was smiling. "I'm not worried. Anyway, make it look like you just recognized us as old friends or something. Security camera just to your left. Don't look directly at it."

 _Oh, they're covering their butts in case I get recognized._ I thought, feeling dumb for not realizing it earlier. As I spoke, I smiled and pretended to finally remember them. "Got it. Car at noon. So what exactly do I need to get?"

"Business clothes, black and white. Dress shoes that you can run in. Maybe an actual haircut." Sam said, looking to Dean.

Dean nodded like he was agreeing with Sam and huffed a laugh. "Hate doing this faking it stuff. Never was a good actor. Get whatever you want, but not so much that you can't carry it or that you draw attention to yourself. The less time we spend here the better."

"Okay. Wow. That's… that's awesome. So I can get anything I need?" I asked, genuinely smiling this time.

"Anything you want. Don't be stupid about it though. We're gonna say goodbye and do the whole 'I haven't seen you in years and don't really want to see you again' hug and I'm gonna put that new card in your hood. Don't reach for it until you're in a dressing room or the bathroom or something. Somewhere without a camera. Capish?"

"Capish." I said, faking a big smile.

"Bring it in." Sam said, leaning in for the first hug. He gave me a reassuring squeeze before backing up and letting Dean in.

"Be safe. Don't take chances. We'll be around, but call us if anything-"

"I get it, Dean." The smirk was genuine as I pulled him into a hug, which he readily returned. I felt my hood shift slightly and waited until he let go to pull away.

"See ya." I waved goodbye as I turned to walk away. I didn't look back, just in case the camera caught anything incriminating.

The mall wasn't the biggest I'd ever been to, but it had what I needed. At the first store, I grabbed a random pair of dress pants and headed straight for the dressing room to get the card before it fell out of my hood. Luckily, it had made it with me to the room.

In no time I had a few dress shirts, dress pants, and a blazer bagged. At a discount shoe store, I found dress shoes with no heel that I could run in for miles if need be. At the same store, I also bought a pair of sturdy sneakers. They were on clearance, so I didn't feel too bad about tossing them in the basket.

Blushing, I made my way into and then quickly out of a store that specialized in ladies… underclothes. I wasn't sure why I was so embarrassed to get some new intimates until I realized that the guys were basically paying for them. Awkward. At least they weren't there to see the wonderfully lacy things I picked out.

Four shirts, three pairs of jeans, a package of socks, a jacket, some makeup, hygiene products, and one very quiet haircut session later, I hauled my five bags out towards the parking lot. _So far so good. Only a little further._ My nerves had all but relaxed in the homestretch.

Then they clamped down hard. "Hey, do I know you?" A voice asked from behind me. I ignored it, hoping they would leave me alone if I didn't answer.

No such luck. The person, a woman shorter than me but older, who was carrying a bag from the underwear store proudly in one hand, ran up beside me. "Excuse me, miss. You look so familiar." She said, squinting at my face.

I tugged my baseball cap lower on my face. Maybe if I went with it and lied a lot she'd eventually give up? "Oh, y'know what? You look familiar, too. Gosh, where do I know you from?"

"Oh, good. I'm not crazy." The woman smiled, crossing her arms. "I work at the school in town. Nicole Lisenky."

"Alberta Mongomery." I shifted my packages and offered my hand. We shook, and she continued to stare at my face. "I just took a bartending job here in town." I lied, hoping that this woman wouldn't be a big bar hopper.

"Huh. Where'd you go to school?" She asked.

 _Somewhere far away._ "Oregon. Oregon State, home of the Orcas." I said, forcing a smile. "Moved here a few months ago. Maybe I've seen you around the city."

"I don't go out much. Just to the mall and back home, mostly. Never been to Oregon either." She said, frowning. "I feel like I've seen your picture in the paper, but I can't remember why…"

I put on my thinking face as I internally panicked. I let my eyes wander as calmly as they could, trying to look like I was digging for an answer for her. In the distance, I saw Sam talking on his phone, looking frustrated. Dean was there too, just to his right, listening absently to a salesman trying to sell him an airbrushed t-shirt.

"I recently won a small lottery." I said quickly, coming to a fake realization. "This guy from the paper came to my apartment and took my picture with the ticket. I didn't know they actually printed it."

"That must be it." Nicole said. "Is that why you're out shopping today?"

"Yes, actually. I really needed some new clothes and that money came just in time. I had enough to buy a few new pairs of pants and-" I jumped as the buzzer on my phone went off. "Excuse me for a sec."

"Oh, take your time. Sorry to bother you." Nicole said. "Nice to meet you Alberta."

"You too." I said, digging my phone out of my pocket. It was Sam. "Hello?"

"Everything okay?" He asked. In the background, I heard Dean ask if he could have a roadrunner painted on a shirt.

"Yeah. Just finishing up. Sorry, I was talking to someone who recognized me from the paper. Y'know, from the lottery I won?" I said as I continued to make my way out.

"Get out as fast as you can without looking suspicious. No eye contact." Sam said quietly in a pleasant tone. The man at the shirt booth told Dean he couldn't have any trademarked characters on his shirt. Dean tried to convince him otherwise.

"I know the drill. I've done it enough already." I said calmly.

"We'll meet you outside in a few minutes." Sam said. "I think Dean's gonna get kicked out soon anyway." The argument in the background was now loud enough that I could hear it down the hall.

"See you then." I said, hanging up my phone and tossing it in one of the bags I carried. Getting to the car was easy after I hit the parking lot. We parked far enough away for the image on the security cameras to be out of focus, and I took a roundabout way of getting there so I couldn't be tracked back to the Impala on the tape. I dumped my bags on the concrete near the trunk and hit the pavement, crawling far under the car to get to the spare key Dean left just for me, just for today, taped to the center of the heat shield.

It was a tremendous relief to plop down in the cab after I loaded up my haul. I locked the doors and laid down on the back bench, closing my eyes to try and calm my pulse a bit. "Nicole, you almost got me killed today." I muttered to the woman who would hopefully never know that had she recognized me from the wanted ad in the paper, I would have had the death sentence.

"Knock knock." A familiar voice said from a few yards away from the car. I sat up and unlocked the doors for the guys.

"Didn't get your shirt, then?" I asked Dean.

He laughed. "I didn't actually want a shirt. Just wanted to see how sound the guy's pitch was. Spoiler: it was awful."

"He probably makes minimum wage, Dean. Give the guy some slack." Sam said. "He almost called security on you."

Dean ignored his brother. "Get some good stuff, Li?"

"Yup." I said, buckling my seatbelt as we pulled out onto the road.

"I see your hair is shorter." Dean said.

"It'd be hard to make it longer." I shrugged. "It's okay I guess." Truthfully, I wasn't thrilled about the cut. It was way too short for me and still blond, but at least it was even now. "At least Sam didn't pull a gun on me this time." A tiny smirk settled on my lips.

Sam huffed, a rich blush coloring his cheeks. "That was one time, Ali. I was tired, we were being hunted by a psycho witch _and_ a demon. You cut like a foot off. What was I supposed to do?"

I laughed at the boyish trail of excuses and Sam's uncomfortableness until Dean spoke. "At least you didn't shoot her." Dean said, a hateful tone to his voice.

An image of waking up half dead after being possessed filled my mind. Wounds screamed out at me from seemingly every place on my body as I lay in my own bed, my friends watching over me. One of many physical insults was a small hole in my leg, created when Dean shot the demon who was possessing me, effectively taking her down until she could be restrained in the dungeon of the bunker. The area on my leg itched at the thought, though Cas had long since removed the scar that had formed there.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean." I said softly. "You saved me. If you hadn't done that, I might still be killing innocent people-"

" _You_ wouldn't be killing anyone." Dean snapped.

"Fine, the demon, whatever. I'm glad you did it, okay? Yeah it hurt, but I'm the only one in my head now because of that." I said. "You can't beat yourself up over it."

"Try and stop me." Dean said bitterly. The ride back to the motel was quiet.

 **FPFPFPFPFPFPFP**

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry that it is taking me so long to write and post chapters. Summer's been rough; mentally, physically, emotionally. Anyway, still asking for names for the kid. Boys and girls names, either or both. What do you think the baby will be?**


	25. Pickles and Dairy

**A/N: Vivi's finally here again. Sorry it's been so long. I was going to post last week but I forgot and went on a trip for a few days and this is the soonest I could post. BUT I have two chapters for you! And thanks to everyone who sent me names for the kid! I like the suggestions...**

 **FPFPFPFPFPFPFP**

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"It wasn't your fault, Dean." I said softly. "You saved me. If you hadn't done that, I might still be killing innocent people-"_

 _"_ You _wouldn't be killing anyone." Dean snapped._

 _"Fine, the demon, whatever. I'm glad you did it, okay? Yeah it hurt, but I'm the only one in my head now because of that." I said. "You can't beat yourself up over it."_

 _"Try and stop me." Dean said bitterly. The ride back to the motel was quiet._

 **FPFPFPFPFPFPFP**

Greg Matthias lived on the other side of town in a small apartment with only a cactus to call a roommate. I stood behind the guys, posing as an intern with the detectives, while they questioned him in his living room. I wasn't sure if we just surprised him in his casual wear or if he always wore black skinny jeans and a gray tank top.

He seemed nice enough. Rough, but polite. Not one rude comment left his lips during the whole interview. Matthias seemed genuinely interested in having his attacker found and prosecuted.

"The guy was crazy. There I was, just enjoying the music and dancing with my eyes closed when BAM!" The man shouted and I jumped a bit. "This guy comes up outta nowhere and tackles me to the ground. He broke my glow stick necklace." I could have sworn that Matthias almost shed a tear. "So I hit him back. Busted him up good before the bartender called the cops. She was yellin' all sorts a mean things at the guy. Feel a little sorry for 'im. Think they were dating." Matthias shrugged. "But not anymore. She broke up with him as I was running away. He ran too; don't even think he stopped for a real argument with his girl."

"So you're saying the man who attacked you was dating the bartender?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Who was the bartender that night? Do you know?" Dean asked.

"Aw, I'm awful with names, man. But she was pretty. Easy on the eyes for sure. Looked like a model with long black hair. She's there a lot, and good at her job, but some days I can't even remember my own name, y'know?" Matthias shrugged again. "And yeah, I think they was a little more than friends."

"Did the man say anything to you before, during, or after the fight?" Sam asked. "Any strange comments?"

The man looked to the floor and thought for a long moment with his mouth hanging open. His bushy beard concealed his jaw, but I was pretty sure it was wide open. "N-… Uh, not that I can think of. I've seen him 'round at Ol' Ricci's before but we never so much as made eye contact. He mostly just growled at me during the fight and turned tail when Miss Bartender shouted at us."

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary about that night?" Sam asked patiently. "Any unusual patrons, strange decorations, weird music?"

Matthias laughed from the bottom of his belly, slapping his knee as if Sam had just told the most hilarious joke he'd ever heard. "Oh, sir, the decorations are always strange. I'm half certain Ricci just goes around the state finding the weirdest shit- oops, sorry, uh, stuff to hang on the walls. There was a stuffed bobcat on a log hung high on the wall for a while. Then this crazy shield and sword set replaced that. Heard the cat got projectile vomited on. Can you imagine?" The man laughed again, but then his mirth seemed to trail off. "It's been a while since any a that stuff changed though. Ricci's been crazy busy with the biz, or so I've heard. Been about two months since any decorations got switched out. Kinda bummed about that. It was something to look forward to at the end of the day. Hopin' for an elephant head, y'know, a big replica one made from a stuffy, to show up on the wall one of these days."

"Uh, right. So no unusual decorations. What about music? Anything you've never heard before? Maybe a track with just chanting or a song in a language you couldn't recognize?" Dean asked, leaning in slightly.

"Lemme think…" Matthias thought for a moment before shaking his head at the coffee table that sat between us and him. "No, it was all the regular music. Electronic dance, the occasional song in Italian that makes like half the people in there holler when it starts. Club draws a lot of Italians, y'know. I almost learned the language already just from clubbin' there."

"And no shifty characters?" Dean asked.

"Oh sure. There was a girl dressed like a maid who kept doin' the splits on the stage. Oh, then there was that guy who was wearing a Speedo and chaps with a mesh shirt. That was a weird night, man." Matthias chuckled. "Bouncer had to toss him out after the bartender cut him off. Guy yelled somethin' like 'curse you and your house, Ricci' before the doors closed. Never saw that guy again. Other than that, just run of the mill crazy. Nothing super weird. It's not that kind a club."

The guys paused for a moment. "… Sure. Sounds perfectly normal." Sam said without looking up from the notebook where he was taking a few notes and doodling in the margins as the man spoke.

"Hey, you guys aren't gonna make me do a statement, are ya? I got a couple stains on my record and I don't wanna mess it up even more. Got accused of killin' my girlfriend a while back." Matthias paused, dropping his gaze to his hands. "She really did have a seizure and drive our car into the river. I couldn't… I couldn't get her out."

"You don't have to make a statement, Mr. Matthias. We just needed more information on your attacker in order to identify him. You've provided us with exactly what we needed." Sam said. He and Dean stood just as Matthias started to snivel. "If we need any more information, we'll contact you. And feel free to call if you remember anything more."

Dean handed him one of the fake business cards with a real number on it before we left. Out on the street, we piled into the Impala and the guys immediately loosened their ties. "You thinkin' Ricci's the one pullin' the bad mojo?" Dean asked.

"I was thinking more of a cursed object. Ricci brings in exotic trash and hangs in on the wall where hundreds of people have access to it and vice versa. Seems like a perfect storm." Sam said.

Dean thought for a few seconds before pulling away from the curb. "A cursed object that drives people to suicide or a crazy dickhead who's probably poisoning people with psychoactive drugs out of his club. Seems like our kind of gig."

"We knew that coming in, Dean. And we're not much closer to an answer." Sam said with a loaded sigh. "People are still dying and that goofball is next."

"Any thoughts, Li? You've been quiet back there." Dean glanced at me in the rearview mirror before returning his attention to the road.

I shrugged. "Well the club staff seems to be involved in every attack. That's something, right?"

"They work there, Ali. They kinda have to be involved." Sam said.

"Not when the fight was in the alley." I said, leaning forward and resting my arms on the back of the front seats. "No one had to step in there. Technically that's city property."

"She's got a point." Dean said.

"Maybe the bouncer just values his job." Sam said. "A dead body in their alley would be bad press."

"So cursed object, nutso club owner, or overly protective staffmembers. Simple." Dean huffed.

"What now?" I asked. "Talk to Ricci? The staff? Look into objects that can do that sort of thing?"

"No." Dean said flatly.

"So…?" I was at a loss. I thought I'd listed our only options. Sam looked just as confused.

"Dinner." Dean smiled to himself.

FPFPFPFPFPFP

That evening, baby wanted pickles, mozzarella sticks, and a chocolate milkshake to dip both in. Normally I ignore the cravings I get because they're weird like that and they would totally give me away if the guys saw, but in a moment of weakness I gave in. I got a burger that had a pickle spear on top, with mozzarella sticks instead of fries, and a chocolate milkshake instead of water. Sure, I got funny looks, but the relief of satisfying the craving was _oh so worth it_. Nevermind that my shirts were beginning to rub annoyingly against my growing tummy. Nevermind that I couldn't sleep on my stomach anymore. Nevermind that I had become an expert at holding my pee. This feeling of happy baby and happy mama was worth it. I actually sighed contentedly in the middle of a conversation when I bit into a milkshake covered mozzarella stick.

"Ge' a roo." Dean grumbled, mouth full, from behind his grease-dripping burger.

"Have you tried this? It's good. Really, it's good." I said, popping the rest of the mozzarella stick in my mouth.

"Mo. A'm mot 'oin' oo." Dean tried to say.

"Have you ever done something like this?" I asked, turning to Sam.

Sam laughed nervously. "Well, on a dare during college. But it wasn't cheese and milkshakes."

"Wa 'as it?" Dean asked casually while still chewing his massive bite.

Sam's cheeks started to blush and he looked down at his chicken wrap as if it had the way out of this situation. "Nothing important. It was a long time ago anyway."

"Oh no. Fess up, Sammy. C'mon, you got us wondering." Dean said, this time with a clear mouth.

"No. It's- I don't even remember how it happened." Sam stammered quickly, picking up his food to stuff it in his mouth. Like that would stop Dean.

"Doesn't matter how it happened. What'd you eat, baby bro? Pickles with mayo? Donuts with hot dogs? Whole anchovies?" Dean pressed, leaning in closer but speaking louder so the others in the diner near our table could hear our conversation.

"No, dude, shut up." Sam hissed, his whole face now red with embarrassment.

"The sooner you say it, the sooner he'll drop it." I whispered to him as I dunked the pickle in the milkshake while neither man was looking.

"You don't need to know, okay? It was- I was drunk at a frat party. My friends made me do it."

"Thought you said you didn't remember how it happened." Dean wore a shit-eating grin as Sam glared at him.

"I'm not telling you. Just drop it." Sam said, burying his face in his food.

"I'll get it out of you sooner or later." Dean said, a sly smile lingering on his face as he eyed his brother's weak attempt to avoid the subject.

I thought I'd give Sam some space and change the subject. "Okay, so we've had dinner. What now?" I asked quickly, before they could start up again.

Dean tore his gaze from his brother and landed it on me, all humor lost. "Hope you liked that club. We need to be there when Matthias attacks the next victim. I don't want to sift through more security footage and drunken accounts of what might have happened."

"So, back to the club?" I asked heisitantly, a pit forming in my stomach at the thought.

"Back to the club." Dean nodded before diving back into his burger.

FPFPFPFPFP

I wore the same short blue dress as the last time I entered that loud, sour smelling room. The bouncer recognized Dean immediately and let us in without a word almost as soon as the club opened. I wondered how long that would last. Steve was going to talk to Ricci at some point and find out we were faking it.

In the hall just before the main room, Dean turned around and stopped us. "If our guy is here, we gotta find him fast. Tail him but don't get caught doing it. And don't drink too much. I'm not hauling your drunken asses home if I have to beat the snot outta some monster without backup. Got it?"

Sam nodded and I just rolled my eyes. _Don't drink too much. Ha ha ha._ I thought bitterly, resisting the urge to touch my stomach and soothe the already brewing nausea.

"And you. Don't go wandering off again. Stay where one of us can see you. Capish?" Dean crossed his arms and leaned in, bending to almost my height with stern eyes boring into mine.

"I capish. Now can we get this over with? I hate this dress." I whined, tugging once again at the hem. The choker I could handle. The shoes might even pass as comfortable. But this dress was scratchy and showy and way too short for my comfort. And with the growing bump, the front was even shorter. I had mere inches of protection from peeping eyes.

"Meet back here at closing if nothing happens." Dean said. He turned and pushed open the massive black doors.

The same wave of stench, color, and noise attacked my senses once the protective black doors were moved aside. This was going to be a long night.

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter is coming in a few hours or minutes depending on when I finish it. Don't forget to leave a review! Takes just a few seconds and lets me know how I'm doing! Thanks!**


	26. Paidi Mou

**A/N: Vivi here! As promised, here's the next chapter. Enjoy, and leave a review!**

 **FPFPFPFPFP**

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Meet back here at closing if nothing happens." Dean said. He turned and pushed open the massive black doors._

 _The same wave of stench, color, and noise attacked my senses once the protective black doors were moved aside. This was going to be a long night._

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

It was two hours before Matthias showed up. I found an empty booth early on and made that my lookout post; I could see the door from there. After an hour, Sam joined me. Dean seemed to be lost in the crowd. It was only natural for me to be the first to see Matthias when he arrived, but Dean was behind him before I even got close.

For the next four hours Matthias did little except dance in the crowd and drink. He really liked to socialize with people, especially the bartender, who was paid to socialize with everyone who bellied up to her bar. I was sure he'd spoken to all three of us at one point during the night as well. Poor guy was pretty wasted by the time he got to me. I couldn't understand much of what he was saying, but we walked together to the bar and found two adjacent stools. Something about love and confusing new feelings and 'the law'. I hoped we hadn't upset the guy too much earlier. He seemed the gruff yet sensitive type. Whatever he was trying to tell me was probably really important to him and he would undoubtedly have no recollection of it tomorrow morning.

Or… later today? It was already one by the time Matthias seemed to forget my existence and stumble back to the dancefloor. I frowned, dreading having to follow him into that sweaty throng, but Dean was already tailing him, pretending to be drunk. I say pretending because I had been watching Dean too, tonight. He hadn't so much as touched the bar yet.

"Lose your date, paidi mou?"

I turned around quickly at the sound of the Greek accented words and came face to face with the bartender. Her flowing black hair was bound back by a gold colored headband so that I- and all her patrons- could see the stunning russet irises that dominated her features. I felt overdressed in her presence, as she wore a simple, green, sleeveless dress that accentuated her figure perfectly. She was older than me by maybe ten years, but youthful and quick as she went about her tasks. I was a little shocked that she stopped her never-ending rush of orders to talk to me.

"Uh, no. Just met him. I'm here alone." I said, instantly regretting that lie. To my left and right were men a few years older than Sam who had already been eyeing me up. Getting harassed was the last thing I needed on a case.

 _Better stick close to one of the guys from now on…_ I thought. Frustration welled in me at making such a stupid mistake. But, admittedly, I would rather be frustrated than assaulted.

"Ah, looking for a date then." The bartender said. "He was cute, right? Like the long hair? The eyes? I find you someone. Wait here." She held up a finger like I was going to leave right away, and then she was gone, zipping back down the bar to fill orders and collect cash.

"Come here often?" I rolled my eyes as the man to my right edged closer and practically yelled at me over the roar of the music. His voice was louder than it had to be. And he smelled like scotch. Just the scent of him made my stomach turn.

"No." I shouted back, louder than I needed to.

He didn't get the message. "It's fate then." He grinned and picked up his glass to take another swig of scotch.

"Um, no. No fate here." I said, beginning to move off of my stool.

Just then the bartender returned and pushed a short glass of clear liquid at me. "You find someone already? Made my job easy. Got something for you to pass the time while I looked. This is on the house, xeni. Enjoy your night." She smiled and turned to walk away.

"I'm the DD tonight, can't drink." I said, pushing the glass away with my right hand while trying to flag the woman down with my left.

"Lemon-lime soda. None of the good juice. That's expensive, no free samples." She shouted back from across the bar.

"Oh." I said to myself, turning to the glass. The man was looking into it curiously, so I jerked it back before he could take it.

I edged the glass closer to my face, ignoring the complaints and advances of the man next to me, and eyed the drink suspiciously. It was fizzy. It was clear. It smelled like soda and not at all like alcohol. Even had ice in it. I was thirsty and she was the bartender, staff here… I could trust her, right? What harm would a little free soda do?

"Talk to me baby." The man beside me begged. "You're driving me nuts already."

"Drive your nuts off a cliff." I muttered as I stood and walked away, drink in hand. I wanted to find Sam or Dean quickly because no matter how many monsters and men I'd already taken down, some testosterone fueled horn-dog would undoubtedly hear that I said I was here alone and corner me. I didn't have the physical appearance of strength and power, but my friends did. I might not even have to tell them I said that stupid lie; no one would try anything with Sam or Dean standing by my side.

"Desi." A familiar voice spoke from somewhere off to my left and I turned to see Sam pushing through the crowd.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips. "Hey Franny, what's going on?" I asked with a smile.

He glared at me. Sam had already asked us not to call him Franny, even if it was just a codename. Dean and I liked it too much. It would stick, at least for this case. "Gio's got an eye on our man. I want to look around and see if we can find anything weird around the building."

"Like cursed objects or sigils?" I asked.

Sam shushed me and looked around to make sure no one paid us any attention. "Remember to be careful what you say. We don't know what we're dealing with here. But yes."

"Right. Sorry." I said more quietly, embarrassed blush flooding my face.

"I'll check over by the bar and the stage. Can you check by the booths and the dancefloor?" He asked softly, scanning the crowd around us as he spoke.

"Yeah." I said reluctantly. Hopefully no one would notice me walking around alone. I felt like an easy target in this tiny dress.

"Great. Meet back here once you're done." Sam said.

"Wait." I called as he turned his back and started to push through the crowd. He stopped and I caught up with him. "Can you taste this? I took some medicine earlier and I can't have alcohol with it."

Sam's face contorted in confusion. "Shouldn't you know? Didn't you order it?"

"Uh, no. Long story." I said, blushing as I held out the glass.

"Did some guy buy it for you?" Sam asked. He took the drink and looked at it.

"No. The bartender gave it to me for free. She said it was just soda, but I didn't know…" I said as I wrung my fingers. "I didn't have any yet."

"Why would the bartender do that?" Sam asked as he sniffed the glass.

"She saw Matthias get up and walk away from me and she assumed I'd been dumped." I shrugged. "I think she was trying to be nice."

Sam glanced at me and then back to the glass. "You've had a hold on it the whole time you've had it, right? Never left your hands?" Sam asked in a low voice.

"She handed it to me and I took it. Why?" I asked, confused.

"There were reports of people being drugged at this club. I found them going through the police reports." He said, taking a small sip and shrugging.

"You think somebody would drug me right in front of my face?" I asked, slightly offended. "Don't you think I'd notice that?"

"I'm sure you would, but if you even look away for a second… It can happen." He handed the glass back to me. "Seems fine to me though. You had it the whole time and it doesn't even taste like alcohol. Might even help you blend in while you're looking around."

"I guess." I grumbled, still uneasy about splitting up.

"Meet you back here after the search." Sam said, walking away.

"Yeah." Sam was already gone. "Just me and you now, huh?" I muttered to my drink. One big sip later I was headed towards the booths, grumpily trying to remember all the sigils Bobby taught me and wondering just what object Ricci could have brought in that could curse people into violent rages and suicide.

All the booths were full already. I had to push my way up to the outer edges and discreetly examine all of them while their inhabitants chatted and imbibed copious amounts of alcohol. There were no decorations in the booths. I figured Ricci knew better than to put décor within reach of the drunken masses. There weren't any markings either, that I could see. If something was scrawled on the underside of a table, I'd never know.

 _We should just come back after closing. This is pointless._ I thought to myself as a woman bumped into me, making me spill some of my drink on myself. Part of me wanted to shove back. Part of me was so tired that I didn't really care either way.

Then came the dancefloor. I saw Sam working his way around the room, searching tirelessly for something that might not even be here. Envy swept over me when I realized that he wouldn't have to scan the floor for marks that hundreds of people were currently dancing on.

 _Why is he making me do all the work?_ I wondered, angrily sipping at my glass as I shoved through a group of men dressed in very obvious bachelor party attire, complete with pins that read 'best man' or 'groom'. One of them whistled at me. It may have been the groom. He was ignored as viciously as I could manage.

I sighed and downed the rest of my soda, putting the glass on one of the high tables that dotted the area around the dancefloor. "Here goes nothin'." I grumbled as I nudged my way down the first set of tiles. Deciphering random scratches in the floor from actual sigils or signs was difficult, especially with all the feet that kept stepping exactly where I was looking. And if a sparkling shoe stepped in my way, forget it. My eyes went out of focus and I had to close them for a few seconds to get them to respond the way I wanted them to.

 _I must be exhausted._ I thought, my head pounding in time with the horrible music. I hadn't noticed that before. _It's gotta be almost time to go home._

I was halfway through searching the dancefloor when I stumbled over someone's leg and fell to my knees. When I tried to get up, someone stepped on my left hand and I heard a sickening crack, followed by a sharp, but then dull, throbbing pain.

"Dammit!" I cried, holding my hand close to my chest as soon as I was vertical again. That was a bad idea. As I took my other hand away to look at my injury, I realized that I was bleeding. A lot. The bright side was that my fingers weren't broken. The skin sure was though, and I had blood on both hands and my chest. At that moment, I felt my tattoo pull and my heart almost stopped.

Something was wrong with my baby.

Maybe he was just scared because I was losing blood? Or it was too loud in here? Or he wanted to sleep too? The pull wasn't strong, so I figured it could wait until we got back to the motel and the guys were asleep. Then I'd call Cas and find out what was happening. He could fix it if it wasn't an emergency… Right?

My vision clouded with angry, pained tears, I stormed to the bathroom. It was dimly lit and creepy and it smelled like sex and vomit, but at least it had paper towels to stop my fingers from bleeding. I wrapped the affected digits in the paper. They stung something awful. I had to hold my breath for a few seconds to keep from screaming as I squeezed to stop the blood.

"Ew. What happened to you?" A brunette in a tight red dress walked in and sneered at me. I glared at her, but she was suddenly standing on the wall.

My heart nearly stopped a second time. What was I supposed to do? We didn't even know what the monster was yet. I had no weapon, save the small silver knife I had strapped to my thigh under the dress. The guys had a lot more concealed protection.

 _Silver kills a lot of creatures. If I can get the heart, maybe that'll do it..._ My thoughts were running a mile a minute and I could scarcely breathe. Everything felt like it was going in super slow motion.

My senses finally catching up to me, I blinked hard and then the thing was back on the ground but ten feet away from where she was at first, stumbling towards a stall.

 _How'd she get there without me hearing or seeing her? She was so fast. What can do that?_ I wondered.

Fear gripped my chest quick as a lightning strike when I realized what was going on. _I'm dizzy. Why am I dizzy?_ _I… I must just be really tired. Maybe dehydrated? Blood loss? Maybe she's not a monster after all._ Several deep breaths did little to calm my pounding heart. _It's gotta be almost time to leave. I s-should… should go outside and wait for the guys…_

Holding the paper towel tight around my fingers, I burst from the bathroom and staggered towards those big black doors.

It was cold outside. The chill was nice though. It woke my senses up a little, and the quiet of the streets at three in the morning gave peace to my abused ears. Steve the bouncer eyed me as I left. I tried hard to hide my injury from him. The last thing I wanted was for the police to get involved.

I made it to the alley on the other side of the building and sank down to the cool concrete. My head was allowed to fall back against the old brick building as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on breathing. The pulling at my thigh became steadily stronger, but it was all I could do to remember what city I was in. That's when I knew I was in trouble. This couldn't wait any longer.

 _Hey Cas. So… I'm in O-… Orem, I think. Utah? At a club. Guys are here. Tattoo's pullin'. Don' feel s'good._ The prayer was too short for him to get a read on my location and I knew it. I was just too exhausted to care.

I'm not sure how long I sat there. I heard people walk by occasionally, and a car or two drive past, but I didn't hear the guys. In fact, nothing sounded quite right in the first place. Everything was distorted; tunnel-y one minute and warped beyond recognition the next. I didn't even open my eyes until a voice- I think it was a voice- yelled at me. Really all I heard was a loud disruption in my quiet. My eyes slid open just a little and I saw a pair of unfamiliar black skinny jeans. Big hands on my arms. Rough, unfamiliar voices all around me. Something picked me up, wrapped something around me frighteningly tight. Too much pressure on my stomach. Tattoo pulling harder than I'd ever felt it before.

 _Wait, no…_ I thought, my body reigniting with fear and adrenaline. My limbs flailed as I squirmed against whatever had me. Suddenly my shoulder and head hit something hard, followed quickly by the rest of my body.

 _I fell?_ I wondered lazily before remembering why I was struggling in the first place. As fast as I could, I scrambled to my feet and turned to face my attacker. There was a street lamp behind it; it had no face in the shadow, but it looked ten feet tall and it had long, scary claws that were reaching for me.

I screamed as I ran down the alley. A voice- maybe a few- jumbled into a dull roar behind me. I dared not look over my shoulder; I knew my ears were playing tricks on me. If I could only just outrun it, maybe the guys could help me.

 _I'm so tired… I just need to sleep…_ I thought, rounding a corner in my search for the perfect resting spot. I wasn't sure why I was running to find it. Wouldn't that tire me out faster? Walking would conserve my energy, but I guessed running would get me there faster. _I wanna sleep._

So I kept running, as fast as I could. Down alleys, up main streets, past bars with booming music. I fell a few times on a brick road, when my heel got caught between the bricks, but I made pretty good time to the dumpster. Shivers raked my body as I approached it. The alley was blissfully quiet, but someone was making a fuss just down the road. Running around and yelling for someone. Poor chump probably got drunk and walked away from his friends at a bar. _Not my problem._

"Jus' sleep. Gotta sleep…" I mumbled over and over as I trudged down the endless alley to get to the shelter of the dumpster. If I could just get between it and the wall, I could sleep for as long as I wanted to. Nobody would bother me.

It came up fast. I saw a shadow at the end of the alley and heard more incomprehensible roars and screeches. There were paws, or claws, or hands, maybe flippers on me, but I jerked forward and broke away, launching into a full sprint. If I could just get behind that dumpster, they wouldn't be able to get me… It wouldn't be able to find me…

As I neared the blotchy green thing, I dove for the crack between it and the wall.

I don't remember much after that.

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

 **A/N: Hope you liked it! See you in a while, crocodile!**


	27. A Change in Perspective

**A/N: Vivi here! Welcome back! I've got a neat set of chapters coming up... Get ready for some POV change! The 'Previously on FP' section is still Ali, but the bulk of this chapter is omniscient (third person). The next chapter will be too. Enjoy!**

 **FPFPFPFPFP**

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _It came up fast. I saw a shadow at the end of the alley and heard more incomprehensible roars and screeches. There were paws, or claws, or hands, maybe flippers on me, but I jerked forward and broke away, launching into a full sprint. If I could just get behind that dumpster, they wouldn't be able to get me… It wouldn't be able to find me…_

 _As I neared the blotchy green thing, I dove for the crack between it and the wall._

 _I don't remember much after that._

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

Sam was torn about having Ali help him search the club for sigils and weird artifacts. On one hand, he knew having the extra set of eyes would make things go faster. On the other, leaving her alone without he or Dean being able to see her made him… nervous. He knew Dean thought she could handle herself, even though he'd never admit it. And Sam knew she was capable. Nevertheless, Sam felt uneasy about having her out of sight for any amount of time.

And she seemed upset when he suggested splitting up. That didn't help Sam's confidence at all.

But he needed to let her be a part of the team. That's what she wanted. She wasn't a princess, even if that was her nickname. She could contribute. She should be given the chance to.

"Great. Meet back here once you're done." Sam said, trying to seem confident as he turned away to grimace and wonder if he'd done the right thing.

"Wait." Ali called after him. Sam stopped on a dime, his mind rushing to the location of the various weapons he had stashed on his person. Turns out, he didn't need them immediately. "Can you taste this? I took some medicine earlier and I can't have alcohol with it."

Sam's face contorted in confusion. _Medicine? For what?_ His mind swam back to that afternoon, then that morning, and the day before trying to pick out any hints of illness or malady that could be ailing his friend. Aside from her sensitive stomach, nothing came to mind.

 _Her stomach is probably acting up again._ He thought with a mental groan. Her stomach caused her more trouble than ever nowadays. It never used to be a problem. She was fine until Francesca messed her up. Sam had wanted so much to kill the demon that hurt Ali, but he knew if he did Ali would die too. Being boxed up on a shelf for all eternity seemed like the next best thing.

"Shouldn't you know? Didn't you order it?" Sam asked skeptically, suddenly realizing the oddity of the request. She must have known better than to take drinks from strangers. She was an adult woman after all.

"Uh, no. Long story." Ali said. The blush that colored her cheeks was both alarming and enchanting to Sam. He wanted so much to grin, to reassure her, until he eyed the drink in her hand as she held it out to him. For some reason, she was shyly avoiding eye contact.

Red flag.

Sam wanted to leave right then and there, to take her back to the motel and away from the center of their current case, or whatever danger she could have gotten into at the club already. Matthais hadn't done anything out of the ordinary yet, but that didn't mean that she wasn't still in danger. Monsters had patterns, rules. Humans were crazy and unpredictably violent.

And Allison was an attractive woman with a relatively small stature.

"Did some guy buy it for you?" Sam asked. He took the drink and looked at it. Even as jealously and bitter betrayal coursed through his veins, he carefully examined the glass and its contents. Allison's safety had to come before his emotions. He'd decided that long ago.

 _Fizzy, smells like soda, no weird extra scent to it. Clear, but just a little opaque. Glass looks clean inside and out. Ice looks clear._ Sam thought as he analyzed the drink in his hand. He caught his sigh just before it escaped. _Don't be a jerk, dude. She's beautiful. She's single. She's-_

"No. The bartender gave it to me for free. She said it was just soda, but I didn't know…" She said, nervously wringing her fingers. "I didn't have any yet."

 _She's not flirting with other guys. She just wants to make sure her drink is safe. And she trusts me to be able to tell._ The bitterness and jealousy left Sam without so much as a huff, being replaced by pride and butterflies that he was embarrassed to admit existed.

But one lingering, suspicious question remained in his head.

"Why would the bartender do that?" Sam asked.

"She saw Matthias get up and walk away from me and she assumed I'd been dumped." Ali shrugged. "I think she was trying to be nice."

Sam glanced at her. _Like anyone would dump you._ Earlier that evening he hadn't even been able to look straight at her without blushing. The dress, the heels, the way she did her hair, and the… the choker got him all worked up the first night and he didn't want to go through hiding that again. But as the night went on and he kept an eye on her from across the room, it became easier for him to not react so suddenly. Instead, he could just watch for a few seconds and smile, knowing that she liked him as much as he liked her.

Caught up in his thoughts, the elbow of a drunken man in his back brought him to reality. He looked quickly into the glass to avoid an awkward exchange of questioning looks. "You've had a hold on it the whole time you've had it, right? Never left your hands?" Sam asked in a low voice. He'd seen the ads on television. He'd seen the warnings on the bathroom doors that were propped open. Hell, he'd even had to attend a seminar on date rape drugs back in college. All the freshmen were forced to attend. Sam knew the dangers of accepting anything edible from strangers and he was none too eager to let Ali dive right in without being sure that she'd be safe.

He and Dean had both, separately, stumbled across multiple reports of date rape drugs, and some worse things, being ingested at this club alone. The details of the reports were quite thorough as well; sexual assaults in and around the club were the most common, but one woman was murdered and another kidnapped. The drink looked and smelled okay, but the real question was whether or not anyone but Ali and the bartender had access to it, if even for a second. Sam wasn't going to take any chances.

"She handed it to me and I took it. Why?" Ali asked, a cute, innocent confusion etched into her expression.

"There were reports of people being drugged at this club. I found them going through the police reports." Sam said. Now that he knew no one had been able to spike it, he took a small sip and shrugged. It tasted exactly like what it was. Soda. No weird aftertaste, no weird smell, nothing weird at all. And no taste of alcohol.

"You think somebody would drug me right in front of my face?" Ali asked, obviously offended. "Don't you think I'd notice that?"

"I'm sure you would, but if you even look away for a second… It can happen." Sam handed the glass back to Ali, trying to not seem condescending. "Seems fine to me though. You had it the whole time and it doesn't even taste like alcohol. Might even help you blend in while you're looking around."

"I guess." She grumbled, frowning.

 _Great. You made her mad. Smooth move._ Sam mentally kicked himself.

"Meet you back here after the search." Sam said, walking away. _Best to not upset her any further._ Sam knew when to stop digging himself a hole, unlike Dean.

Searching the bar was easy. Sam took full advantage of his height to look down at the countertop for any marks, and behind the bar for anything out of the ordinary. Aside from the bartender's purse, he found nothing that shouldn't be there.

 _Why would she have her purse behind the counter? Shouldn't that be in the staff room?_ Sam wondered as he eyed the small leather thing. _That would be way too easy to steal._

He continued on down the bar, occasionally glancing around the room as he had become accustomed to when on a case. One man was flirting hard with the woman next to him. She was not as interested in him as he was in her. Another man seemed to be drinking away his sorrows much to the chagrin of a man who appeared to be his friend. Ali was on the other side of the room, slowly making her way down the row of booths, calm and attentive as ever. Dean and Matthias were standing at high top tables a few feet apart near the stage, drinking various beverages and talking with the people around them. Sam also saw the bartender break a nail opening a beer can. She quickly opened her purse and removed a nail file. Her lips muttered angrily in another language as she filed down the sharp edge, ignoring the patrons who tried to get her attention.

 _She must just want to keep it nearby._ Sam made a mental note of the oddity before clearing the bar of any strange goings-on. As he did one last scan of the area, his eyes met those of the woman behind the bar. She winked at him and smiled before rushing to mix a drink for an impatient kid, probably barely twenty one. Sam didn't even have time to send an awkward wave.

With nothing unusual at the bar, Sam slowly strolled towards the stage, searching the area and people around him as he went. Flashes of color filled his vision as outrageous outfits, LEDs, and tinted lights flicked into and out of his line of sight. It was a bit distracting but Sam could deal. This wasn't the worst location they'd had to search. In fact, this was one of the easier ones.

The stage was a sorry excuse for a focus point in the room. It was raised about three feet, backed by long black curtains, had one iffy looking staircase to the left, and appeared to have been painted black so long ago that the orange of the previous paint was showing through in places. There were line dividers all along the stage to keep the patrons off of it, but the stage looked like the dividers didn't do much. It was stained with several suspicious colors and just _looked_ sticky.

Sam sneered at the thing as the overhead lights continued to flash and whirl around the room. One such light, a bright yellow beam, glanced over something on the lower wall of the stage between a group of people who were standing in front of it. Putting on his best drunken guise, Sam held his stomach and stumbled quickly into the group, where he proceeded to do his best imitation of dry heaving. It worked, as it had before, and the people scurried away while squealing and shouting obscene things at him.

Supporting himself on the stage, Sam kept his posture doubled over so he could get a better look at what he thought he saw in the light.

It seemed to be a carving of a ladybug, almost a foot tall. The image was already painted over, with its black paint beginning to peel just like the rest of the stage. It also looked like that area had more wear and tear than the rest of the stage front; like people were continually brushing up against it or touching it. Next to the ladybug was a carving of a flower of equal size and weathering. A big further down, near the center of the stage, was something Sam hadn't seen before. It was the same size as the other carvings, but looked like an upside down tree with branches that ended in unusual symbols; a rose, a heart, a crescent moon, what looked to be an ancient helmet, and a disconcerting dagger. This artistically executed imagery appeared to be as old as the other carvings, but seemed totally untouched. Very little paint had flaked off of it and its lines were still sharp.

"'Cuz that's totally normal night club décor." Sam frowned. Pulling out his cell phone, he took several quick pictures of the images he found. Turns out there was another set of ladybug and flower on the other end of the stage; the carvings were in very predictable places.

 _Why would something take the time to make more than one of the same sigil?_ Sam wondered as he studied the other flower carving. It looked exactly the same as the first. _Maybe they link up. Somehow magnify each other's power?_ Sam resolved to ask Dean when they returned to the motel if he knew anything about that. After all, he did have a few more years in the business than Sam had.

When the tall hunter finally decided to stand, he could hear his back pop over the music. Annoyed, Sam stretched, trying to pop his vertebrae back into place. Bad idea.

All his blood wanted to stay in his legs, apparently, because as he stretched, he started to see black and white spots where before there had been nothing but dense black curtain. All the lights that flashed around the club were pointed away from the curtain at the moment, since no show was being put on. Sam swayed unsteadily as the spots started to disappear. The only reason he didn't fall was his hand, which connected with the stage after he staggered a few steps.

 _That's… new._ Sam thought, shaking his head as the blood finally decided to return to his head. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't put him on edge. Almost out of instinct, Sam tried to locate Dean. He needed to know backup was nearby if something was actually wrong with him. Just in case. Dean would know what to do.

Dean wasn't where he had been when Sam started examining the stage. The high topped table was occupied by a moderately pregnant woman and a small group of others. Matthias was nowhere to be seen either.

Sam stretched to his full height and looked out over the bobbing crowd on the dancefloor. Not one familiar face stood out to him.

A sense of dread settled over Sam as he began to look for Ali instead. She should have been looking over the dancefloor by now. _She's probably bent over, trying to get a closer look._ Sam tried to reassure himself as he pushed his way toward the area, then around the colorful squares that designated the borders of the dancefloor. There were plenty of random scratches in the wood, but thing unusual.

Until he noticed a spattering of blood.

Kind of a lot.

It looked fresh.

 _Ali?_

Sam's stomach did a few panicked turns and he actually dry heaved a few times, much to the annoyance of those dancing around him.

 _Something's wrong._ The panic had reached his heart now, causing it to beat uncontrollably. He could hear it even over the pounding of the music. _What the hell can do this? Violence, suicide,_ and _vertigo?_

With a real ache in his stomach now, Sam stood up, though a bit hunched forward, and made his way off the dancefloor. Even his feet were starting to betray him. He only fell once, but he felt hammered. It was like he'd been drinking all night. Like he had a wicked high fever and couldn't see straight. Like his body wasn't connected to his head quite right. _Gotta find Dean._

It felt like it took forever. Sam finally reached the bar, but still no Dean. He hadn't been by the stage. Not on the dancefloor. Not even at the bar. _Where is he?_ Sam's stomach clenched hard, nearly doubling him over. If it was just a sense of dread he'd had before, it had now escalated to full blown panic.

 _Oh shit._ Sam could hear his own breathing start to hitch. "Gio-" He shouted over the roar of the crowd. With the music adding to the constant barrage of sound, his cry hadn't even seemed to make a dent. No one turned around. No one looked up. Not one familiar face in the crowd.

"Gio!" He tried again, searching for his brother.

For the second time today, his eyes met those of the bartender. This time, she didn't wink. She didn't even smile. She just looked him up and down like he was another belligerent drunk.

The next pang of pain was the worst yet and he felt his body become fatigued very suddenly. All he wanted to do was find his family and go to sleep.

The sleeping part wasn't a symptom of vertigo.

For the first time in a long time, Sam was scared.

So Sam did what he had done since he was old enough to know what fear was. He cried the one word that could make everything better. "Dean!"

As soon as the word escaped his lips, Sam doubled over and showed the whole club what Dean called a 'Technicolor yawn'. No one stood within three feet of him as he retched and groaned in pain, holding his stomach as his knees began to feel weak.

A pair of gentle hands took his shoulders, steadying him as he swayed over the growing puddle. "Puke's not a good look on you, man." The voice was gruff but concerned and even over the boom of the club, it was music to Sam's ears.

Relief flooded Sam's body at the familiar voice and his knees finally let go. _No way Dean's gonna let me into the 'pala now, not with tha' al'over my pants. Oh, 'n shirt, n' shoes…_ At least the last two didn't have the nastiness of the floor to add to the odor. Those stains were pure Sam.

"Let's get you home."

 _Please._ Sam thought. He tried to help Dean get him off his knees, but the effort wasn't worth much. When he was standing again, the dots returned.

"Think s-omethin's wrong." Sam stammered as Dean pulled his arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, I noticed, Captain Obvious. Where's Desi?" Dean asked.

"Desi?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, taking in the actual confusion on his brother's face. _This is more than a stomach bug._ Dean thought with a hint of worry. "You been drinkin'?" He asked.

"No." Sam said, taking a moment to hold back a dry heave.

"You sure?" Dean pressed. Sam simply nodded. "Did anything happen while I was away?" Sam shook his head.

Alarm bells started going off in Dean's mind. _That sonofabitch better not have targeted my family. Get ready for a slow death, motherfu- Wait. Where's-_ "Where's the girl, Francis? Where's our cousin?"

Sam blinked a few times, a blank expression on his face.

"Where is she? Sam, where's Li?"

 **FPFPFPFPFPFP**

 **A/N: Leave a review. Only takes a few seconds and it makes my day!**


	28. Night Terrors

**A/N: Vivi here! This is the third time I've tried to post this chapter. First time, weird coding showed up. Second time, I accidentally deleted half of it (not from the original copy, but still). I'm trying to make formatting happen again. Bear with me.**

 **Shout out to ngregory763, Happygoddess2003, LiraXD, and hardygirl87 for reviewing the last chapter! I loved hearing what you thought about it! Sorry I didn't message back. Crazy summer. Sigh.**

 **And now, the moment you've all been waiting for... Family Practice. It's a longer chapter. Has some swearing. Consider yourself warned. Also, we're still in omniscient POV. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _Sam blinked a few times, a blank expression on his face._

 _"Where is she? Sam, where's Li?"_

* * *

Dean's tone took a more desperate turn as he seemed to lose Sam altogether. Sure, he was still breathing and making eye contact, but he seemed to have shut down. _Not good._ "Shit."

Dean craned his neck to search the room, but found no sign of Ali.

Sam couldn't remember putting his arm around Dean, but he was glad he had because the vertigo was back. That's when he decided to speak up.

"Blood. There was- was blood on the floor." His voice was quiet but Dean heard every word.

Dean's blood ran cold.

"I'm gettin' you outta here. C'mon." Dean mostly carried Sam out the black doors, internally cursing some random bachelor party for taking so long exit ahead of them. When they finally made it to the outer doors, Steve the bouncer gave them a confused look and reached out to stop them.

"Hey-"

"We don't have time for this, dude." Dean snapped, his legs already beginning to ache with the effort of carrying his none too little little brother.

"Listen, asshole. That cousin a yours went bumblin' into the side alley a while ago. Haven't seen her since and it's a dead end. Shady shit is bad press. You gettin' what I'm sayin'?" Steve growled in a low voice so that no one leaving the club could hear.

"Got it." Dean answered, both glad and beyond worried at this new information. Steve let them go and Dean dragged Sam straight for the alley.

 _Not her too._

She was there alright.

On the ground, against the wall, surrounded by the bachelor party guys.

"Hey!" Dean shouted, settling Sam against the brick at the entrance of the dead end alley.

"Finders's keepers." One of the men laughed, sticking his tongue out at Dean as he tried to tug her from her position against the wall. His knuckles were white. She'd have bruises.

They probably wouldn't even remember what happened tomorrow.

Dean drew his pistol from its place at the back of his belt and pointed it directly at the biggest threat. The one touching his sister. "Back up." He growled as he slowly approached the group.

One of the men, a blond, turned and saw the gun but didn't react for a solid three seconds. When he realized what was going on, his eyes got wide and he started thumping the back of the man who was touching Allison. "Bro, I think we better-"

"Step off, Drew. I found her." The man said, swaying as he jerked at Ali's arms again.

Dean cocked the pistol with a click that echoed finality up and down the side street.

The man looked up and immediately released Ali's arms, stumbling back a few steps before falling flat on his ass. "Y-you can 'ave her. Jus' don' shoot me. I got a girl and a tot back home that need me, man." The man had his arms raised, head turned, and eyes closed, nearly crying in front of all of his friends. The picture of family support.

"Fuck off." Dean said loudly, motioning with his pistol towards the exit of the dead end alley. Over the years, Dean had learned to control the situation first and deal with unnecessary emotions whenever they got to the bar. He really, _really_ wanted to hurt this dude, but he was human. Probably. And Dad said to never knowingly hurt a human.

Even if you really, _really_ wanted to.

Most of the group turned tail and ran, making scared, drunk noises as they shoved at each other to get to the front of the mob and away from Dean. The father figure just sat cowering where he fell.

"That includes you, asshole." Dean said as he put his gun away and went to check on Ali.

The man was slow, but Dean's back had been turned as he tried to wake his friend from the same stupor that seemed to have gotten to Sam. Dean's head smacked hard into the brick wall above Ali's head when the jerk jumped on his back and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. Shrill ringing and angry white spots popped up on impact, but even as his amulet took a chip off of a brick in front of him from the force of the impact, Dean stayed calm.

It was a move Dad had trained both boys to counter with ease. They hated practicing on each other, but the muscle memory came in handy more often than Dean wanted to admit. As he had in several practice sessions with Sammy over the years, Dean stood, taking the man with him. He turned away from the wall, gripped the man's arms behind his own neck, and bent quickly, pulling hard on the man as he straightened his legs to propel the man over his head.

The ass landed on his back with a resounding thump and a pained groan. Dean felt sorry for the pavement.

"What did I say?" Dean bellowed, more than a tinge of anger penetrating his tone. He stood tall and towered over the man, knowing that in this light, the jerk couldn't see his face. Not that he would remember what it looked like in the morning anyway. Alcohol from his breath could be smelled a good five feet away.

"Please don' kill me." The man, who was now leaking tears, begged as he lay on his back. He reminded Dean of an overturned turtle; limbs flailing, rocking back and forth, a general look of distress.

"I said, 'Fuck off'. What part of that didn't you understand?" Dean asked, nudging the man firmly with his foot. _Can't help her until he leaves. Can't risk another half-assed attack. If I fall on her, I could do even more damage…_

"Please, please…" The man, now in a full blown panic attack, sobbed through gasps and tears and snot.

"Leave!" Dean shouted, kicking him lightly in the ribs. Not hard enough to leave a mark. Just hard enough to hurt.

This time, the father-of-the-year rolled over and scrambled to his feet, limping as quickly as he could towards the road. Dean pulled his gun just in case, and was glad he did. The man saw Sam, who was still slumped at the mouth of the alley, and started to move towards him with his fists balled. Dean cocked the gun, it's click echoing menacingly along the bricks, and the man magically straightened his course, stumbling out into the road and out of sight.

Just to be safe, Dean brought Sam closer to Ali before doing anything else.

"Li." Dean knelt beside the still form and took ahold of her shoulder. Her skin was cool to the touch; not a good sign. On top of that, he could already see two bright red, angry handprints on her arms. "Wake up." There was no response from the woman, but the man beside her groaned and wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"Not again." Dean hoped no one saw them. He really hoped that guy and his pals hadn't called the police. Maybe he shouldn't have pulled a gun on them. _Worth it._ "You gonna lose it?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head but didn't open his eyes. _Maybe… Maybe the curse or whatever is letting up? Could be just a warning to stop looking and leave. Like that's gonna happen._

"Rise and shine, Princess." Dean shook her shoulder gently and glanced back towards the entrance of the alley. They couldn't stay much longer. Not only were there possibly police on the way, the wind through the city was cold enough to make little clouds of Dean's breath. He was grateful for the black leather jackets Sam suggested they get for this whole 'clubbing' case, but Li had virtually no protection from the icy breeze. She'd worn Sam's jacket on the way to the club. Without a second thought, Dean shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around his friend.

 _Why did I park on the other side of town?_ Dean mentally kicked himself even though he knew it was a good way to hide their identities and protect themselves. Now though, it seemed like the best way to get them hurt and put in jail for public drunkenness. _If we go to the station, we'll get more than disorderly conduct. They'll find out who we are. Li could be killed. All because I parked the car so damned far away._

"Sorry Li, we don't have time for this." Dean apologized, a renewed sense of urgency giving him a burst of adrenaline. _I'll take care of you once we're safe. Promise. Just hold on._

"D'n."

"You actually comin' back, Sammy boy?" Dean asked loudly as he took Ali under the arms to lift her onto his shoulder. He figured that would be the easiest way to get both she and Sam back to the Impala. One shoulder for Ali, one arm to support Sam. Dean could do it. He had to.

"Where'e?" Sam slurred, his head bumping back against the brink as he slowly looked around.

"Alley beside the club. I found Li. We're getting outta here." Dean said as he gently set Ali on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her legs, which were in front of him, and hoped that she wouldn't puke down his back. "C'mon. You gotta help me help you." Dean offered Sam a hand just as he felt Ali's body tense up.

It happened fast. Faster than Dean had expected. In the blink of an eye, Ali went from being a still, compliant weight on Dean's shoulder to a mass of thrown elbows and projectile feet.

"Li, stop. Calm down. It's me- It's Dean! Hey-" Dean tried to keep her from falling, thinking he would set her down when she stopped flailing so much. The woman had other plans. She bucked and kicked and threw punches that would probably leave little fist shaped bruises on Dean's back before finally connecting one of her heels with Dean's face. "Dammit!" Dean cried out, using one hand to protect his face. One hand was not enough to keep the ball of rage on his shoulder.

Dean dropped Ali. Actually, she launched herself off the back of his shoulder, but of course that's not how he saw it.

"Shit-" Dean gasped, turning just in time to see her body fall flat on the hard ground. A landing like that would give anyone a headache at the least; she hit arms first, then head when her arms failed to cushion the fall, and then her shoulder connected before she finally flopped belly up into a small puddle, undoubtedly soaking the dress. _Great. Now she has a concussion and probably a separated shoulder._ Dean ignored the small cut on his face and reached down to pull her now deathly still body out of the puddle.

Instead, he was splashed with water.

She was up and running faster than Dean thought possible, sprinting out of the alley. At one point, she looked back at him and screamed bloody murder, as if he were the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen. His jacket fluttered off her shoulders in a particularly brisk gust, landing with a soft woosh on the pavement.

Dean was speechless, frozen in shock, watching as she rounded the corner and disappeared. "The hell just happened?" He muttered, absently pressing a few fingers over the cut on his face. It was bleeding and he didn't want to look suspicious while dragging bodies back to the car.

"Go." Sam looked up at him, snapping him out of his stupor.

"What?"

"Go get 'er. She's halluc-natin'." Sam said, concentrating very hard on pronouncing the words correctly. He still felt weird, _very_ weird, but at least his stomach didn't want to see the outside world anymore. And he wasn't as tired as he had been earlier.

"You gonna be okay here?" Dean asked quickly.

Sam nodded, though he was anything but sure. If he had to guess, he'd say that he couldn't stand at the moment, much less walk or fight. Talking was an ordeal in itself. But Ali needed Dean now more than he did. And Ali's safety came before Sam's lack of confidence in himself.

Dean handed his gun to Sam, who had refused to bring one because 'What if someone sees it and freaks out?'. "Don't use it unless you have to." With that statement Dean was gone, running out of the dark alley in the direction he'd last seen the woman in the blue dress go. On his way past, Dean grabbed his jacket from the pavement, intent on returning it to those bare shoulders.

* * *

In his lifetime, Dean had run quite a lot. Run from things, or towards them. Run to save lives or just for fun. Done sprints with Sam as training or those awful ten mile punishment runs with Dad when he got caught pulling pranks on Sam. It was fifteen miles if he got caught pranking Dad. Running a part of his life and Dean accepted that.

However, this run was somewhat… different.

Ali had never run this fast during her training. She was actually outrunning Dean, who was growing more and more concerned with each corner he turned searching for her. Once in a while, he would hear the pounding clicks of heels on pavement and follow those, or he'd catch a glimpse of sparkling blue stained a muddy brown and change his path. In one alley between two late night bars, Dean even found two small splotches of fresh blood on the brick floor with the rubber plug of a heel wedged between two bricks about eighteen inches behind it.

Now though, forty minutes into the chase, he had no clue as to where she could have gone. There was no sign of her.

Dean had lost Ali. Again.

He just hoped he would be the first one to find her.

"Dammit, Li." Dean grumbled as he came to rest against the side of a brick building. This early in the morning, it was so cold Dean could see his breath. Every pant was a fresh reminder that Sam was still back there, outside, and Li was probably collapsed somewhere just working toward hypothermia.

 _What if I don't get there in time?_ Dean wondered for the third time that evening. _She's already bleeding. It's freezing out. Her head's all screwed up. There's no way she can make it on her own right now. What if… What if I don't find her at all? And some pervert kidnaps her?_ The thought made Dean shiver even more than he had in the past hour, even with his coat back around his own shoulders. His chest clenched up and a fresh surge of adrenaline kicked in. _No more kidnappings. I'll find her first._

"Li?" Dean yelled, against his better judgement, as he rounded the corner of the building. _If Sam came out of it so quickly, maybe she will too. She's probably fine, back at the club with Sam right now._

Even though he focused on the best outcome, Dean didn't turn back toward the club. "Li?"

For ten more minutes he called for her, jogging slowly around the city, being shushed by sleepy faces behind window screens and glared at by late night workers coming and going. Peering into every alley, trying to catch a glimpse into every car, squinting far down roads, and looking up fire escapes. Still, he found no sign of her.

"No. No no no. She can't- she can't just be _gone_. She can't just poof out of existence, right?" Dean asked himself as he slowed to a stop and pressed his numb fingers into his hair as a kind of comfort mechanism he'd been doing since he was four. He felt his chest tighten again, but this time his eyes started to sting too. Slowly, he moved toward the nearest wall and rested his forehead against it, eyes firmly closed. "No way she's gone. I'll find her. I have to find her. If Sammy finds out-"

"Jus' sleep. Got… gotta sleep…" Dean's head whipped up, his eyes flew open, as the softest wisp of a voice caught his ear. He turned a circle, trying to figure out where it had come from, but it was lost. The voice was gone.

"Li? C'mon, give me somethin' to go off of. Just give me a sound, a word, anything." Dean muttered to himself as he slowly scanned the area. All around were little shops and lobbies for big businesses in the skyscrapers that towered above them. Street lights yielded scant puddles of visible signs and storefronts, but most of the area was in darkness. Dean wasn't sure where to even start looking; he was halfway between two blocks, with three alleys and four roads that he could see which could pass as within earshot. A delivery truck rumbled by and he got the urge to throw a brick at it, but there was a gross lack of loose brick in his immediate vicinity, so he resisted. It took forever for the truck to get far enough away for him to hear the wind whipping around corners of buildings again.

"Gotta sleep." The voice, carried by the wind, lofted by him a second time. He turned on a dime and started running upwind, back the way he'd come.

"Li?" He shouted, hoping that if the voice really was her, she would be lucid enough to recognize him and reply.

No such luck.

Dean sprinted and yelled, pausing at each alley and road he passed to take a good long look before moving on. _She's talking, she's okay. She's gonna be fine. She's gonna be okay._ Dean told himself as he listened for another hint. "Li?" He called down a particularly dark, hauntingly smelly alleyway. _Gotta be like five dumpsters in there. Good place to hide from vamps, though. Stink has a way of masking scent. Lesser of two evils, I guess._

As the hunter was about to move on, a small glimmer of blue caught his eye, just barely bright enough to pierce the darkness of what appeared to be a block-long alley. Dean's heart leapt into his throat and he took a few hurried steps towards the sparkling color. "Li?" He asked, softer this time.

The only response was that same phrase he'd been chasing for the past few minutes. "Gotta sleep."

 _It's her! It has to be!_ Dean raced down the alley, willing his eyes to adjust on the spot, until he could clearly see the outline of the person in the blue dress. "Li?"

The woman was stumbling along stiffly until she came to a stop and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her familiar, steely blue eyes grew wide.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Remember me?" Impossibly, her eyes got even wider. "I'm Dean." Very slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Dean edged closer to her until he could reach out and touch her arm. As gently and quickly as he could, he wound his fingers around her bicep and established a strong grip without alarming her. The temperature of her skin was shocking; it felt almost as cold as the brick against his forehead had been. "I'm gonna get you home, okay? Get you warmed up."

Ali continued to stare at him with terror dancing in her eyes.

Now that Dean had a firm hold on his target, he could look her up and down. A quick damage check. Her fingers were bloody. Knees bloody. Shoulders scratched up. The hand prints from before were getting darker and there was a new one, just above Dean's hand, and another one, very prominent, across her face.

Rage pulsed through Dean as he realized some asshole had tried to hurt her. Someone had slapped her after he lost track of the novice hunter. "You're gonna be okay, Li. I gotcha." Dean moved very slowly and began shucking his jacket, hoping to stave off hypothermia, or at least slow it down. She wasn't shivering at all.

Apparently that movement was the straw to break the camel's back. Ali ripped her arm out of his grasp with a burst of strength that Dean hadn't thought she could generate before running again, full tilt toward a soupy dumpster that Dean had smelled from the mouth of the alley.

Dean took off after her. "No! Hey! Don't you do that-" His voice was commanding; there was no way Dean had the time to get _that_ stank out of his leather seats. If she jumped in, he'd have to go in after her and the car would smell for _months._

However, she didn't do what Dean expected her to do. No attempt was made to jump into the reeking thing. Instead she angled her run for the back of it, where a nasty puddle of garbage juice had accumulated between the bin and the brick wall. Dean ran faster than he ever had in his life, knowing that somehow, a worse situation was unfolding.

Ali slipped in the green-brown sludge.

Her head connected with the corner of the green box and sent a reverberating clang up and down the side street.

She fell on her side into the puddle, body slouched against the dumpster between it and the wall.

Then… she didn't move.

Dean was there just a few seconds later. Gently, he pushed her body against the back wall so he could see her face. A slack expression greeted him. It was a good thing her eyes were closed, because now her head was bleeding down her face.

"Li?" Dean asked, desperately trying to keep the shake out of his voice. "We gotta go." No response. "I need you to wake up."

No response.

With panic rising in Dean's stomach, he pulled his friend into a sitting position and out from behind the dumpster. Panic was familiar to Dean, but usually he could ignore it. It was instinctual. It was unnecessary. The only time he listened to it was when Sam was hurt. If he panicked when Sam was hurt, then it was bad and he knew they needed to get the hell outta Dodge. In those instances, it had proven itself useful.

Now, though, Dean wasn't sure what unnerved him more; the fact that Ali was unresponsive, or that her actions within the past hour could be viewed from the outside as a suicide attempt.

Maybe this was how the monster worked.

After wrapping his jacket around his icicle of a friend and zipping it all the way up this time, Dean produced a small silver knife from his boot. He took a deep breath and pressed it to the skin of her bare leg.

Nothing.

A few drops of holy water from a flask in his jacket had the same effect.

"What the hell are we dealing with in this town?" Dean wondered. Then he shook his head. "Not important right now. Get with it, man." A small, black cell phone from Dean's jacket found its way to his hand. He had to check on Sam.

It rang four times before someone picked up, their voice heavy with exhaustion. "Dee?"

Dean's face showed a picture of pure confusion, mixed with some obvious relief. "Dee? You haven't called me that since you were two, man."

"I found the 'pala." The voice on the other end was slow, like Sam had to concentrate on every word.

Still, his words left Dean with even more confusion. "What?"

"I'm in the car."

There was a long silence. "Whose car, Sam?"

"Yours."

"Sam, I have the key. How did you get in my car?" Dean asked, more than a little anxious about the answer.

"I'll pay for the window."

"Dammit Sam. You can't just go smashin' my baby like that." Dean growled, an angry flush filling his face. "Are you safe, at least? Nobody bothered you?"

"Yeah."

"How did you get to the car? We didn't exactly park close."

"I walked. Against walls, mostly. Fell a couple times."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, amazed that Sam hadn't gotten arrested yet. "Look, I found Li. Again. We're gonna make our way to you."

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

Dean tried to remember the street signs he'd passed most recently. Keeping track of his direction was something he always tried to do; it was easier by far in a city. "Main and Fifth. Should take us… maybe half an hour to get to you." Dean said as he watched Ali's face for any signs of movement. Part of him hoped for motion, but part of him dreaded it. If she moved, he might drop her again. And he really, _really_ didn't want to do that.

"I'll be there." Sam said just before he hung up.

"What?" Dean snapped. Immediately, he tried to call Sam back, but got no answer. "No, Sam, don't walk all the way here just to… Oh, hell no. He is _not_ going to hotwire my baby. _Dammit_."

Sure enough, not five minutes later, Sam drove into the alley, narrowly missing the walls as he wove back and forth trying to miss hitting the back of the car on the cobbler's shop. Dean and Ali were sitting at the mouth of the alleyway, with her curled up on his lap, her head against his chest, still dead to the world. At least she had started to shiver again.

"Is she okay?" Sam asked from the driver's seat, through the broken passenger side window, as the car continued to idle loudly.

"No. Move over." Dean snapped. He stood, carrying Ali in his arms. Once Sam dragged himself across the bench, Dean set Ali between he and his brother. "Keep her upright. Try to wake her up." He snapped, still furious about his car being hotwired, his window smashed, and his seats defiled. _Fix it later. I can fix it later._ He kept telling himself, taking deep, calming breaths.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope the formatting worked. This is the first time in a while I've had time to fiddle with it. Leave a review for me _pretty pretty_ please! I love hearing what you're thinking! Also, there's a big, much anticipated chapter coming up soon. Until next time...**


	29. Those Were Better Times

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry for the inconsistent posting. I post 'em when I finish 'em. Swearing in this chapter. Still omniscient. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Is she okay?" Sam asked from the driver's seat, through the broken passenger side window, as the car continued to idle loudly._

 _"No. Move over." Dean snapped. He stood, carrying Ali in his arms. Once Sam dragged himself across the bench, Dean set Ali between he and his brother. "Keep her upright. Try to wake her up." He snapped, still furious about his car being hotwired, his window smashed, and his seats defiled. Fix it later. I can fix it later. He kept telling himself, taking deep, calming breaths._

* * *

"Hey… Her leg is really hot." Sam said, shifting his own leg away from hers a little as Dean carefully backed out of the alley. "Like really hot."

"Dude, not the time. Not the place. Just try to get her talking." Dean snapped as a Buick honked at him. The stupid car had waited to do so until Dean was already in drive on the road. "Honk one more time, mother-"

"No, Dean, feel." Sam reached over and yanked Dean's hand from the steering wheel. Luckily, he had both in position as they sped down the road towards the motel, so no more damage was done to his battered baby.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean hadn't expected the sudden act and was caught off guard by his brother's actions. He didn't even have a smart remark about it.

His surprise switched sources, though, when Sam pressed Dean's hand against Ali's right thigh, where Sam's leg had been touching hers just moments ago. "See?"

"What the hell?" Dean repeated, tugging his hand away from the unnatural heat while never looking away from the road. With a quick glance over to Ali, he pressed his hand to her forehead, thinking that maybe now she had a fever. She'd been so cold before…

Her forehead was freezing. Not as cold as she had been earlier, but still way too cold to be normal, much less feverish. Dean cranked the heater on full blast and pressed his foot a little further towards the floor.

"I don't know." Sam said softly after a few seconds. "She's pretty hot."

"Yeah, her leg is, but the rest of her is freezing." Dean said, carefully keeping his anxiety in check. "Whatever kinda monster this is, it's new to me."

"No, Dee." Sam said in a very un-Sam, four-year-old-explaining-a-simple-concept tone. "I mean she's pretty. Jus' look."

Dean took a solid two seconds to look at Sam in utter disbelief before returning his attention to the city streets. Traffic was starting to pick up. Must have been getting close to morning rush hour in this town. After a few seconds, Dean shook his head. "And here I thought you were pulling out of it."

"Dee, we haven't even done that yet." Sam said, his tone embarrassed and his face flushing.

Dean was equally as uncomfortable with the new subject as Sam seemed to be. "You know what? Why don't we play the silent game?"

"'Kay." Sam replied as he settled into his seat and looked out his nonexistent window. That had always been Sam's way of winning the silent game, even when the whole family played it on trips.

Dean sighed and wondered how on earth he was going to get through the night. Wondered when Sam and Li were going to snap out of whatever this stupid monster had done. Wondered _if_ they would snap out on their own. Wondered if Ali would wake up within the next few hours, regardless of her mental state, with that concussion. Wondered where the nearest mechanic was. Wondered how he was going to get the rank perfume of upchuck and refuse out of his once beautiful leather seats.

By the time they reached the motel, Sam was asleep on Ali's shoulder with her head flopped on his. Dean hated that they were both out now, but the lopsided A frame they ended up making had kept both of them upright and out of each other's messes, which was a small relief. He wasn't sure if he could handle the two concoctions actually mixed together without some kind of gas mask; the broken window was just enough ventilation in the confines of the car. It almost smelled worse than their last run in with a classic, old world witch. Almost. She sprayed something awful all over the room- and the brothers- when she died. Dean still shivers at the memory.

With the car now safely in park and turned off, Dean ran to open the motel room door. He tossed a seventies themed comforter from one of the beds onto the sketchy carpet before going back to the car. _I hate themed motels. Why can't they just buy a better mattress instead of freaking diamond shaped clocks and weird paintings?_ Dean's thoughts were only in passing; the room would serve its purpose, regardless of the décor.

First, he towed Ali into the room and set her gently on the blanket, wrapping a portion of it over her bare legs. Then he brought Sam in and wrestled him onto the blanket next to the girl. Finally, he grabbed the med kit, tossed a blanket over the broken window and secured it by closing the door, locked the car, secured the room, and turned the heat on high. That little heating unit belched to life as if it had a grudge, spraying rather large dust particles on everything in a three foot radius. Dean almost groaned. The next time they chose a place, they were going to pay more than twenty dollars a night.

With the weight of tiredness already creeping up on Dean, he turned to his two helpless charges. Fortunately, Sam was at least kind of awake. Unfortunately, that had made him a mumbling, wriggly dead weight to carry. At the moment, Dean didn't want to deal with that; even if the scent of the mess on Sam's clothes was starting to fill the room and the palms of his little brother's hands were scratched up. Ali was pliably still, and her issues were more pressing anyway. Dean decided to start with her.

Kneeling on the crunchy carpet, Dean checked her pulse. It was slow, but thready. Like it wanted to beat fast, but just couldn't. Her breaths came in slow cycles too, sometimes turned into gasps or sighs by her inconsistent shivering. Another attempt to wake her failed just as miserably as the last few.

"Okay. Start with the life-threatening stuff." Dean said to himself, trying to remember exactly what Dad had taught him about field first aid years ago. "Bleeding, breathing, bones, body temp."

She was breathing pretty reliably. He'd already checked that. And she was bleeding, he knew, but not enough to kill her anytime soon; there was plenty of time to find all the leaks and patch them up. Broken bones? Dean did a quick scan, feeling for that signature crunchy movement of two broken ends rubbing together. He tested every bone he had access to, even sitting her up to press on her ribs and removing her heels to check her feet. Aside from two ugly rips in her skin where the heels wore on her tendon, nothing on her feet seemed out of place. She had a thick, darkening bruise on her shoulder where he dropped her, and her left hand was pretty swollen.

Dean reached for the medical kit, sifting through it until he came back with the old family thermometer. Glass, with red tinted alcohol inside. One of the few things that was salvaged from the fire in the days after a family lost their mother.

He washed it carefully in the bright green, cracked motel sink.

"Open wide." Dean said softly, gently pulling Ali's chin down until he could slide the thermometer under her tongue. He patiently held her mouth shut until the color rose no higher. She was still shivering when he read 97.7 degrees Fahrenheit.

Not life threatening. She'd warm up sooner or later as long as she was given some heat to get her started.

"Sammy, you with me?" Dean called over his shoulder as he washed the thermometer one more time.

Only the sound of dry heaving came as a reply.

Dean gently set the glass tube in the sink and raced to shove the little bathroom trash can under Sam's head. The big brother had to help the little sit up as a few wads of mucus and stomach acid fell into the can with a sickening plop.

This wasn't the first time Dean had done this for a family member. Granted, he had been more practiced with John and his habits, but Sammy got the flu now and then. Dean learned to hold his cookies while also keeping any cookies from hitting the carpet, where they'd stink up the whole rest of their time in town.

"Get it all out, brother." Dean said, averting his eyes. Glancing at Ali, he noticed that she was still shivering. Sam now felt more like he was sweating. "I'm not gonna stick anything in your trap for a while. No hypothermia for you."

Sam made a noise that almost sounded disappointed. Dean rolled his eyes and waited for Sam to finish. It didn't take long. Within two minutes, Sam was back to his horizontal position, pouting and holding his stomach as he curled in on himself. There weren't any traces of pain on his face, so Dean decided he could wait.

"Let's get you patched up, huh?" Dean said as he moved to sit next to Ali, brushing a rogue tendril of hair out of her face. He tried not to dwell on the fact that she looked dead. Gray face, makeup too bright like they painted her at funeral home. Pale skin. Discoloration all over her dress and front from the big green box that leaked. Hardly any movement or signs of life. It was unnerving.

Experience was, and will always be, a very valuable thing. Dean knew what to do. Rinse the wounds, then pick out the rest of the debris with tweezers. Rinse again. Bandage. Luckily, her head wound had no debris in it. He did rinse it probably more than necessary though. She smelled _bad_ from that juice she landed in; who knows what kind of gnarly, microscopic creepy crawlies swam in that crap.

Dean only gagged twice while bandaging his friend's egg.

The occasional soft _chink_ of a bit of brick or concrete falling onto the little metal dish they stole from a hospital years ago was the only noise that contributed to the rumble of the heating unit. It took a long time to clean out her knees; she must've fallen a dozen times, all over town by the variety of stuff that came out when he rinsed and dug. Dean gave them one final rinse before packing them with gauze and tape, then trapping them in cling wrap, another med kit essential.

Her hands were in somewhat better repair. A few pieces of shrapnel to remove from her palms, but overall, mostly shallow scratches and light bruises. He probably wouldn't even need to bandage them. The scratches on her shoulders weren't deep enough to warrant bandaging either.

"Bathtime, Oscar the Grouch." Dean said to Ali as he stood to turn the tap on in the bathtub. From the bathroom, he called to Sam, "You're next, Big Bird." _Sesame Street references? Really, dude?_ Dean chided himself. _At least they didn't hear that._

"Im-pa-la-la-la… la-la-la-laaa." Sam muttered as Dean came back into the main room. Little Winchester was still laying on the floor, but now had his eyes open with a goofy smile on his face as he looked around for his big brother.

"What?"

As soon as Sam saw Dean, his next verse was recited twice as loud as the first. The noise made Dean cringe. "Wreeeeck the halls with em-pa-na-das, Im-pa-la-la-la-"

"Dude. What has gotten into you? You don't even like the _original_ version of that song." Dean asked as he stared down at his baby brother, mildly concerned. This version of 'Deck the Halls' was definitely not the best he'd ever heard. _Might be the funniest though._ Dean thought with a small smirk.

If you ask him today he'll never admit it, but Dean savored that moment of childlike whimsy, even in the midst of his adrenaline rush. It had been so long since his little brother did something silly and honestly… Dean missed it. Sam had taken to being so serious recently. With no popcorn available, Dean sat on the edge of the bed with Ali pulled up sideways in his lap, leaning her shoulder against his chest. He tried to warm her as much as possible while waiting for the water to heat up, but in the meantime they listened to all five verses of Sam's improvised Christmas carol. He even recorded some of it with his phone to play back when Christmas actually came around. _Hollywood gold, little brother._ Dean couldn't help but let a small smirk light up his face.

When the song was over and Sam fell asleep again, Dean tested the water and decided it was warm enough to start with.

"Sorry, Li. Medicine knows no modesty." Dean frowned and sighed, hating what he was about to do. The zipper on her dress came down easily, but the blue fabric peeled off of her skin in the grossest way. He had intended on leaving her underclothes intact until she woke up- 'cuz let's face it, she might never look at him the same way again if he didn't- but both articles were soaked. As in, already dark-brown-and-greenish-with-garbage-juice soaked. Dean decided to clean those areas last, as modestly as he could without leaving potentially harmful goo on her skin.

He wasn't sure when he first noticed it, but he knew Ali got rid of her scars. Still, it was strange to not see the Wendigo claw marks, the ridge through her possession tattoo, the bullet hole _he_ put in her leg… What was also strange was the way her latest tattoo looked. _She must have an infection or something._ Dean supposed as much upon seeing the skin around the illness sigil irritated and bright red.

He nearly forgot all about the heat radiating from Ali's leg until he picked her up to move her to the bathroom. It surprised him more than it should have; she had been steadily warming up with that heater going, he checked, but her thigh was still just as hot as before, if not warmer. In some backwards kind of way, Dean had hoped that it would cool off when she warmed up. Like the extremes would even out. No such luck.

"We'll get a look at it and see if water helps at all." Dean told Ali, even as her head lolled against his arm.

A tiny gasp was the only response she had to the water, which was plenty warm enough and not deep at all when she entered it. "You gonna wake up for me?" Dean asked gently, not wanting to scare her again if she was actually coming around.

She was not. After a few seconds of waiting, she made no move or motion to suggest consciousness. "Alright then."

Being very careful to keep her from sliding down too far into the water, Dean washed his friend, head to toe. He scrubbed as much blood out of her hair as he could without compromising the bandages there. The blood was washed from her face. Dean had a momentary rush of panic when he saw black running out of her eyes. _Ectoplasm?_ Luckily, he realized it was makeup before he got out his flask. He wiped most of it off with a washcloth, careful not to get any in her eyes.

The water in the tub was replaced a few times, but eventually Ali was clean. All except her sensitive bits. And weird as it was to have to wash your unconscious female friend's lady parts, it was nothing Dean hadn't seen before. And he wasn't just assuming based on other women.

All those months ago, when a witch had turned him into a sniveling eighteen month old toddler, Ali had been the one to take care of him most of the time. Sam helped, of course; there was no way the 'little' brother would just abandon his 'big' brother. However, whenever Sam needed to do something, research something, or hunt something down – which was pretty often, since he was trying to return Dean to his normal state- Ali had been the one to feed, bathe, clothe, comfort, play with, and inevitably go to bed with him. The few memories Dean retained from his second childhood consisted of Sam, Cas, or Ali playing with him, crying his eyes out while blowing unintentional snot bubbles because he had a nasty cold the whole time he was little, or the bedtime routine Ali developed after a few very frustrating days of playing surrogate mom to an equally frustrated, sick, tiny hunter.

When he would get tired and cranky, she would hold him. That as usually enough to calm him down and win Ali about half an hour more to finish whatever she was doing. Thinking back, Dean wasn't sure how she got anything done while holding him securely on her chest, with his head plopped sleepily on her shoulder. When that time was up, though, and he started to have an exhausted breakdown, Ali would take him into her room, or Sam's depending on whom he was joining that night. The playpen he slept in would usually already be in the room, but she never put him right down. She would continue to hold him and sing softly while she rocked back and forth, back and forth until he quieted down. His eyes always drooped as she changed him- a part he tried to forget- and dressed him in pajamas. Usually he got a dose of children's cold medicine that put him right out. It made him sleepy in the mornings and afternoons, but he could handle it if that meant no incessant snot dripping down his face and no headache or coughing fits to keep him up at night.

 _She would have been a great mother._ Dean thought sadly, treasuring those fuzzy memories. A time, recently, when he was vulnerable and someone was there for him in every way. He hoped that someday another little soul would get to experience the love that he'd received. _What was her son's name? Kole…? Yeah, Kole. Poor kid. Never even got to meet his mom._ Dean sighed and had to pause in his task to take a few deep breaths as he recalled the first few weeks they knew Ali and the way she'd cried out for her unborn son. They hadn't known who Kole was yet, but she wept for him anyway. _The way she mourned him…_ A familiar fire burned in Dean's belly as he remembered that the demon who had killed her son was not yet destroyed. _Can't focus on that yet. Focus on her. Focus on now. Look for changes, injuries, spellwork…_

A few times, after Ali had put him down to sleep in his playpen in her room, Dean stayed awake either too miserable from being sick or too wound up from listening to Sam's reports of progress in his case to sleep. Dean remembered not being able to understand much of what Sam said, but he could tell by the tone of his voice if it was good news or bad news. While he lay awake in the playpen, on several occasions Ali changed clothes, thinking her tiny charge to be already asleep. It was just glimpses, really. A strange thing to remember when he had no recollection of the shootout that he was apparently present at; the one where Ali was grazed by a bullet while holding him.

Dean knew what to expect when he removed the ruined garments. Anything different would be dangerous until proven otherwise.

However, he was surprised to find that a few very normal changes had occurred.

"Need to start trainin' you harder, Princess." He said softly after noticing a little pudge around her middle and a bit more padding on the hills to the north. "Maybe Sam's onto something with his rabbit food." Dean, for a split second, considered _thinking_ about Ali and himself adopting Sam's diet. He knew it was healthier and that Sam rarely felt bloated or uncomfortable because of it. However, after that one second of deliberation, Dean decided that the heavenly, savory, welcoming taste of comfort food was well worth the extra laps and bloat that he – and he suspected Ali – felt once in a while.

 _You passed inspection like a champ, Li. Promise I won't bring this up. Ever. Not even to watch you squirm. You've been through enough recently; this is just between us._

With the rest of the foul trash runoff washed down the drain, Dean wrapped a towel around the woman who used to bathe him and lifted her from the tub. She shivered the whole time, even though the bath water was plenty warm. Somehow her leg was still hot; hotter than before even. Hotter than the water had been.

"Li, if this is an infection, I'm gonna call you on poor tattoo care when you wake up." Dean said as he set Ali, towel and all, on one of the beds. Grabbing a clean, dry towel from the bathroom, he dried her hair in an effort to help her conserve as much heat as possible. Then he found her duffel and started going through it, searching for warm clothes. The underclothes were easy enough to find, but she usually slept in shorts and a tee shirt.

Dean decided to loan her a pair of his sweatpants. He always took at least one pair on any given hunt. Jeans were hard to wear over leg injuries, especially if bandages were involved. _You never know when you'll need a little extra room._

Dressing her under the towel to the point where she was decent, Dean very gently wrestled Ali into the clothes he'd gathered. Over her sleep shirt went Sam's hoodie. Dean didn't think his brother would mind, and he was sure Ali wouldn't want to sleep in a leather jacket, which was all he had to offer.

With the heater cranked up as much as possible and Ali tucked under all three available layers of bedding, with a bonus wool blanket from the trunk of the Impala, Dean popped the thermometer under her tongue for a second time.

98.2.

 _Good work, Li._ Dean praised silently as he wiped the glass off on his shirt before putting it back safely in the med kit.

* * *

 **A/N: Leave me some words! I love reading reviews! And I'm curious, because I've gotten mixed responses: who thinks the baby is okay? Who thinks the baby isn't going to make it? Who thinks Dean can't save them? Let me know...**


	30. Unmentionable

**A/N: Vivi here! It's my birthday! Thought I'd give you a gift today: spoiler, it's this chapter. Still omniscient. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _With the heater cranked up as much as possible and Ali tucked under all three available layers of bedding, with a bonus wool blanket from the trunk of the Impala, Dean popped the thermometer under her tongue for a second time._

 _98.2._

 _Good work, Li. Dean praised silently as he wiped the glass off on his shirt before putting it back safely in the med kit._

* * *

He then turned his attention to Sam.

The youngest Winchester was still mumbling incoherently, eyes wandering all around the ceiling as he pushed his legs out and pulled them up every once in a while. At least he wasn't holding his stomach anymore.

"Sam." Dean called. He wanted to see if Sam had returned to his right mind, or if he was still a little loopy.

Turns out Sam was kind of both. "Dean, where'd you go? It's freezin' out here." Sam said, pretending to shiver as his eyelids started to droop.

"Bathroom. It's warm in there, why don't you and me go in and get you cleaned up, huh? You're starting to smoke me out and I have to sleep in here tonight." Dean said.

"But that's so far away." Sam said in a tragic tone, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Dean squinted his eyes at the display. It wasn't often that Sam got dramatic on him, but when he did, he did it like he was the lead in Macbeth. Dean sighed, scrubbed a hand down his face, and pointed to the bathroom door. "It's right there, Sam. Literally seven feet from your giant sasquatch head."

"How'd that happen?" Sam asked, craning his neck to see the door. It was like he was seeing the room for the first time; his eyes grew wide and his voice took on a much more panicked tone. "Where are we? How'd we get here so fast?"

"We're back at the motel. We drove here." Dean said, leaning over Sam so his brother could locate him and hopefully stop freaking out.

"Dean." Sam's voice was part relief, part confusion. "Were you painting?"

"What?"

A slow smile spread on Sam's face, his eyes lighting up. "Do we have finger paints?"

Dean squinted again, trying as hard as his exhaustion clouded mind would let him to figure out what Sam was talking about. "What paint, Sam?"

"On your shirt, Dee." Sam gasped long and deep, his face becoming twisted in horror. "Were you painting clowns?"

Dean looked down at his shirt, pulling it out to see it better. Splotches of Ali's blood had somehow landed on Dean's shirt when he was cleaning or stitching or bandaging. Dean rolled his eyes. _I haven't had enough alcohol or sleep for this shit._ "No Sam. Want to go swimming?"

The change in subject worked like a charm. Sam grinned and nodded rapidly, yielding a dizzy spell that had the two bumping into walls on their way to the tub.

Sam was actually more difficult to get clean. Granted, he tried to help wash himself, but even though the dizziness had subsided by then, he still didn't have the coordination to do much of anything but ask questions that got on Dean's nerves and fall asleep at random times.

So Dean washed most of him.

Sam, when awake, splashed a lot and laughed at the I'm-so-done look on Dean's face.

Dean swore a lot. Particularly at whatever monster did this.

By the time he wrestled Sam into clean boxers and pulled a sheet over him, Dean was soaked and drained in every sense of the word.

He changed into boxers and a tee before returning to check on Ali again. Sam's light, rhythmic snores already filled the room.

"How's it goin', Li?" Dean asked the unmoving bump under her mountain of blankets. "Let's check those bandages one more time before I pass out."

All the bandages were fine and now that she was dry, he removed the cling wrap from the ones that could have been exposed to that filthy water in the tub. As he went to pull the blankets back over her still-shaking body, his eyes were drawn to her right leg.

A soft yellow light was coming from her thigh. "…the hell?" Dean breathed. Carefully, he pulled down the elastic of the sweatpants she wore to reveal her latest tattoo.

The skin was still red and looked angry.

The script was glowing yellow.

Heat radiated off of it and it seemed to vibrate intensely even as he stared at it with wide eyes.

No more than seven seconds later, his cell phone was to his ear. To his surprise, the line went straight to voicemail. Cas' familiar message played and Dean wasn't sure whether or not to leave a message. "I don't understand. Why- why do you want me to say my name?" _Beep._

"Cas, I have a question… Y'know what? I'll just call direct." Dean hung up and stuffed the useless phone back in his duffel. Then he closed his eyes and started to pray out loud. "Castiel, I think I have a situation here. There's somethin' weird goin' on with Li's new tattoo and I was hoping you had some answers. We're at Morrison's Inn and Bar, room 104. It's on Main, in Orem, Utah. Nobody's dying, but I could use your help figuring out-"

The sound of rushing wind filled the room.

Dean's eyes shot open.

Cas was already crouched beside Ali's bed, his hunched back to Dean, his hands glowing blue as they pressed against Ali's stomach and shoulder. The hunter simply stared for a while. _He didn't even say hi. That's not like Cas._ Dean thought once the shock had worn off.

"Hey." Dean tried to greet the angel. The angel made no move to return the pleasantries. "So… I had a question about…" _He probably already knows what's going on. Let him do his thing._

It was five minutes before Cas moved. Dean, feeling like a creep for staring so long, busied himself with rinsing out the soiled clothes and getting a load of laundry ready to take down to the laundromat. He was just about to ask Cas if everything was okay when he rounded the corner out of the bathroom with an armful of no-longer-super-gross-but-now-soaking-wet clothes and literally ran into the angel.

"Cas-" Dean stepped back in surprise. Cas didn't move; he simply glared at Dean. "Why the look, man? Is everything okay?"

"Allison will be alright." Cas said, dropping his gaze and swaying slightly on his feet.

"Are _you_ alright?" Dean asked, reaching out to steady his friend.

"It… is not of import." Cas said, sidestepping the question as best he could.

"Uh, it is in fact 'of import'. What's going on, Cas? Why aren't you at full angel juice levels? You're shaking like a wet kitten." Dean tossed the dripping bundle of fabric to the floor and crossed his arms, giving Cas his full attention.

"I am not a kitten, Dean. Demon hunting is difficult, as you well know." Cas said in a way that betrayed his exhaustion. "I have been… as Sam says, 'pulling all-nighters'."

"What's so urgent that you can't take a minute to rest? You recharge fast, don't you?"

"The demon Francesca had many followers. Many who want to see her take a permanent vessel and wreak havoc on the human world. I have been on high alert since I left you, gathering intelligence on activity related to Allison or Francesca and hunting down every threat to my charge. It is not a single soldier job, but I am trying, Dean." Cas seemed to be upset- as upset as the angel ever showed, anyway. "I am at least holding them at bay."

"Back up a minute. So demons are _actively_ trying to get to her? When were you going to share that little tidbit of information?" Dean asked, frustration evident in his tone.

"I thought I made that clear when I left." Cas said, his eyes squinting in confusion.

"No. That was not made clear. I was under the impression that as long as the she-demon was still locked in the magic box nothing would try to hunt us down." Dean hissed, being careful not to wake Sam.

"That is not the case."

Dean waited for the angel to say something more, but when he didn't, Dean sighed and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Okay. Roger that. So what was the glowing leg all about?"

At that question, Cas seemed to become almost antsy. He said nothing, but wouldn't look Dean in the eye.

"Cas. What did that son of a bitch do to Li?" Dean demanded. "She's not just your responsibility anymore. She's not your 'charge', okay? We're in this together. I need to know what happened… Maybe that'll help us figure out what we're dealing with here."

This time, Cas' head tilted in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"We're on a job, in case you haven't noticed. And we don't know what we're hunting yet."

"Allison was poisoned." Cas said simply. "It is a manmade compound intended to slow the functions of the body and aid in attaining restful sleep. In high doses, it results in memory loss, depressed heart rate, and difficulty breathing, among other things. She was given a near lethal dose. That is why her sigil was activated; it has been calling me to her for hours now, but no one informed me as to where you were working." There was a distinct bite to Cas' voice. "Your family could have been lost."

"Poisoned…" Dean's mind was running a mile a minute. _Could have been a monster using human drugs to throw us off the trail. Or it was just a sleezeball human trying to…_ Dean shivered at the thought. He wondered if whoever had planted that bruise on her cheek was the one who'd drugged her.

Sam.

Sam had the same symptoms.

"Cas, Sam was acting weird too." Dean said suddenly, passing Cas on his way to check on his baby brother. Fear gripped his heart as he looked at the bump under the comforter. The unmoving bump.

"I have assessed his condition. The compound has been inactivated by his body already. The dose he received was significantly lower than what Allison was given." Cas said as he moved to join Dean at Sam's bedside. "Now, he is simply exhausted."

Sam released a soft snore and Dean let go of the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Thanks, Cas."

"Please inform me each time you leave the bunker for more than a day. With your location warding, I am unable to find any of you." Cas said.

"Yeah, will do." Dean swallowed hard at the lump forming in his throat. "Cas… if I hadn't called you… would she…" _Would she have died?_

"It is likely that her body would have been unable to support life for very much longer." Cas said quietly, knowing by the tone of his friend's voice exactly what he meant to say. "I removed a majority of the drug from her bloodstream. Had it been allowed to run its course, her heart would have stopped beating by morning. What remains will help her sleep comfortably and safely through the night. I repaired her concussion as well, but many of the lacerations were very minor and will heal quickly on their own. I left those."

It was like a bullet to Dean's gut. He had been mostly sure that they'd be fine. The effects were already wearing off for Sam, so Li wouldn't be too far off, right?

 _Of all the ways to let someone down._ Dean closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to keep from showing how upset he was becoming.

"Dean." Cas placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, prompting the worn hunter to open his eyes. He just couldn't bring himself to look anywhere but down. "This was not your fault. You are aware of that, correct?"

Dean didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked over Sam a few times, then Ali, listening to them breathe. It was the chorus of his life- and he'd almost lost it forever. "I should have watched more closely. Someone or something drugged them and I have no idea how. I wasn't even aware that Li left the building, Cas. She could've been kidnapped, or worse."

Cas searched Dean's eyes, wanting to relieve the tension and pain he saw there. "No one can save everyone, Dean."

"I can't even save my own family." Dean scoffed and looked away, cursing the water that started to accumulate in his eyes. _Damn allergies._ He lied to himself, trying to blink them away.

"They will recover, thanks to you."

"No, they're alive thanks to you. All I did was try to ask about the weird sigil." Dean shrugged Cas' hand off of his shoulder and started toward the pile of wet clothes on the floor. "You should stay the night, Cas. Get some rest. Meditate, or whatever angels do."

"I cannot do that. I have word that Tristram may have been working with Francesca. If this is true, we will need to find a way to kill Francesca without releasing her from her prison." Cas said.

"Who- or what- is Tristram?" Dean asked as he gathered the clothes up again, intending to put them in a duffel with all the other dirty clothes.

"You may know him as Sir Tristan of the Round Table. A knight of King Arthur." Cas explained flatly.

Dean's mouth fell open. "Wha- Are you serious? Is this your attempt at a joke? 'Cuz I am so not in the mood, Cas."

"No… I am not joking." Cas said in confusion. "This is very serious. Tristram was in the same circle of hell as Francesca. They've had centuries to build a partnership. I have reason to believe that when Francesca escaped, she somehow summoned Tristram out to join her."

"Wait, why was Sir Tristan in… what circle was it?"

"The second circle of Hell."

"Why was Sir Tristan in the second circle? Wasn't he like 'Sir Tristan the Virtuous' or something?"

"That was Sir Galahad. Sir Tristan, or Tristram as he's now know in Hell, fell in love with and intimately took the pledged wife of an Irish king. When he was killed in battle, he was sent to the second circle." Cas said.

"So a knight of the round table might be hunting us?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Hunting Allison. And you, Sam, and I by association. Yes." Cas said. "That is why I cannot stay. I need to find out exactly what his role is in this situation we've gotten into and how large of a threat he poses."

"Got it." Dean said as he tossed the pile into the duffel. Suddenly, laundry seemed much less important.

"Let me know when you leave this place." Cas said.

"Hey, why did your phone go to voicemail? I tried to call you." Dean said with an edge of frustration in his voice. All of this new information was too much, too fast for Dean's sleep deprived brain to handle.

"It was crushed by a demon yesterday." Cas said, not breaking eye contact.

"So… you gettin' another one? I've got like five burners here." Dean offered.

"Another cellular phone would be appreciated." Cas said, reaching down to touch the duffel of laundry while Dean went to dig through the side pocket of his gear bag. He returned a few seconds later with a simple black phone and a charging cable.

"Here. It's already got loads of numbers programmed in. My primary is Dean Ross."

"Thank you, Dean. I won't need the cable." Cas returned the cable, but somehow got it tangled before it reached Dean's hand.

"You have to keep it charged, dude. It's worthless if you don't."

"I am aware. I have plenty of power to keep it from shutting down." Cas said. "My previous device was always at full power simply from being in my pocket."

Dean smirked at his friend. "Cool."

"I will check in now and then. See you in a week or so."

"See ya, Cas." Dean said, flinching as Cas left in a whoosh. "Sir Tristan…" Dean muttered in amazement. "Never thought I'd have to deal with a knight."

As Dean passed the laundry duffel to put the charger back in the gear bag, he noticed a distinct lack of stench. There should have been at least hints of vomit, garbage juice, and ripe BO coming off the bag on the floor, but… nothing.

With the charger returned to its rightful place, Dean opened the bag and found all their laundry somehow folded, clean, neat, and tidy, without so much as a whiff of stank.

Dean huffed a small, relieved laugh. "Thanks Cas."

Now, with no laundry to sort, Dean decided to check Ali's temperature again. This time, it was normal. And she'd stopped shivering. "Way to go, Li. It's the little things, right?"

A groan from the next bed, deep under the covers, let him know that Sam hadn't quite fallen asleep yet.

"You up, Sammy-boy?" Dean called as he put the thermometer away for the last time. He felt heavy, in so many ways, as he stood and returned to Sam's bed. Sammy was one of the only people who could lift his spirits when Dean felt this bad. He'd done it so many times; it was like the kid had a gift. _Probably the only reason I'm still kickin'._ Dean thought bitterly. Hopefully his little brother could reign him in once again, because Dean was _so_ not in the mood for a chick flick sob session tonight. He was closer to the edge than he'd like to admit.

"No. Where are we?" Sam asked.

 _Right… This drug can cause memory loss._ Dean realized slowly. Then, a slow smirk spread across his face. _Even all drugged up, you're doin' it again. You're gonna_ _satisfy my curiosity, aren't ya?_ "Frat party, bro. You passed out. Had one too many." Dean said, setting the stage for his ruse. He still wanted to know what Sam had refused to tell them earlier that day in the diner. Dean wanted to know what weird thing Sam ate at a frat party in college. His mind had been running wild with possibilities since that meal. Well, until the whole drug thing happened. Dean was sure it was hilarious, he just had to pry it out of Sam's head.

"Damn it. Dean'd be pissed." Sam slurred sleepily. "Don' tell 'im."

 _He told his college buddies about me._ Dean thought with no small hint of pride, his smirk widening into a tired smile. "Can do, brother." Dean said, making no attempt to change his voice. Sam didn't come out from under the sheets. "So… you ate somethin' pretty weird earlier. Remember that?"

"Oh…" Sam groaned again. "Ne'er gonna live that down."

"Remind me again what it was." Dean requested, sitting down on Ali's bed so he could face Sam's figure under the sheets.

"No…"

"I'll get you a piece of black raspberry pie. Promise." Dean said, drawing out his words so Sam heard every syllable.

"'S not even the season for 'em." Sam whined.

"I'll order it special, then. But only if you tell me out loud what you ate."

Sam groaned again and shifted position. For a moment, Dean was sure Sam's sense had returned. "Na gonna record me are ya?" Sam asked. "'Cuz if Jess, er Brody, er my brother ever found out, I'd be screwed."

"I don't even have a phone on me. No audio recorder or camcorder either. Just say it and I'll get you your favorite pie." Dean said. Even though he thought it a little cruel to dangle the one pie that Sam's mouth would always water for in front of his face just to get a response, Dean pressed on. "Nobody but you and me will be able to hear you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You're really gonna order one?" Sam asked slowly.

 _He's falling asleep again._ Dean felt a renewed sense of urgency. "Yeah, but you have to tell me in the next ten seconds or they'll be all sold out."

"Cherry." Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes. _Kid doesn't even like cherry pie._ Then, when Sam didn't speak again for a few seconds, he realized that was Sam's answer. That was nothing weird. Granted, they rarely ate just cherries- those were expensive and they rarely had a fridge to keep them in- but why would Sam try to hide the fact that he ate them on a drunken dare?

The older brother was about to tell the younger to just go to sleep when another word left the confines of the sheets. "Underwear."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud and waking the neighbors. _Cherry edible underwear?!_ Dean had to hold his gut too; it was starting to ache with the laughter he tried to restrain.

"Whose were they, Sam?" Dean asked between gasps.

"Brody bought 'em. 'As hard to get tha' plastic off." Sam said, his voice gradually slowing more and more as the conversation progressed. "Sticky shit."

Dean still couldn't stop laughing, even though he knew no one had worn them before _it_ happened. _Oh, Sammy, this little tidbit of information is gonna come in handy someday. You just wait._ Dean took a deep breath, but fell into another fit of laughter. _And I'll have to keep that promise, brother, even if you don't remember us making it. So worth the five bucks._

"I… I don' feel so good." Sam groaned suddenly.

In an instant, Dean was stone-cold sober and rushing for the used trashcan. He sat Sam up and positioned the can just in time. Sam heaved and shook as Dean held the can in one arm and his number one priority in the other. "I sure hope this is a side effect of the drug and not the flu, kiddo. We can't afford a sick day."

 _Li hasn't thrown up once… Why's Sam a fountain now?_ Dean wondered, worry starting to bud in the back of his mind.

Sam spit the last of the acid out of his mouth before groaning and leaning into Dean. "Dee?"

Dean rubbed his shoulder to let his baby brother know that he was safe. "Right here, Sam."

"Can I go to sleep?" Sam asked.

 _You're gonna pass out soon anyway. It's way past your bedtime, geek-boy._ "Sure thing, bud. I'll leave the can right here after I rinse it out." Dean settled Sam back into his bed and when he'd returned from cleaning out the can, Sam was asleep and splayed wildly all over the queen sized bed. An arm here, a leg there, his head almost dangling off the side nearest the trashcan. Dean shifted his brother's head so that he wouldn't get a neck strain in the night. "Guess I'll sleep with Li tonight."

Were you to ask Dean about it, he'd tell you that he _had_ to sleep on the bed with Ali. It was the only space left. There was no couch. She was still shivering occasionally and he had to warm her up. What if she suddenly took a turn for the worse in the middle of the night? He had to be close. After all, she hadn't woken up yet, unlike Sam.

He wouldn't mention that Cas had reassured him of her speedy and inevitable recovery. He wouldn't mention that he could have easily gotten his four hours on the hard motel floor, with or without a blanket. He'd never admit that he felt hauntingly alone that night, stressed out and on the verge of tears at his own recklessness and inability to protect the only people who depended on him. He'd never tell anyone that he missed the intimate physical contact that he'd shared with Ali as a toddler; the cuddles, the hugs and kisses, the carrying, the comforting... There was no way he'd say that the occasional pats on the back or claps on the shoulder from Sam or another hunter were not enough; not even the occasional one night stands could satisfy his need for contact longer than a few days.

But most of all, he wouldn't say that he missed being babied. Not even that… He missed someone watching out for his emotional and mental needs, in addition to his physical ones. Ali was a pro with babies; always right there with a gentle word, warm arms, a toy, a snack, whatever the kid needed. She wasn't so attuned to adults, or not that she let on. Sam was oblivious until Dean was near to a meltdown.

No. Dean wouldn't tell anyone any of that. He should be able to handle himself. All the times he'd told himself ' _Man up, you're a Winchester, not a baby'_ , he'd been using the only coping mechanism he had. And it worked. For now.

* * *

 **A/N: Last chapter from omniscient POV. Leave me a review. Tell me how I did writing from a different perspective. What do you want more of? Less of? What do you think they're hunting? See you soon!**


	31. Last Night

**A/N: Vivi here! It's been a while. I like that you guys are guessing about what it is that they're hunting... Keep it up! For this chapter, we're back in Ali's head. And just so you know, I'm back at school, so chapters may or may not change in frequency. Depends how stressed I get (I write when I'm stressed). Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _But most of all, he wouldn't say that he missed being babied. Not even that… He missed someone watching out for his emotional and mental needs, in addition to his physical ones. Ali was a pro with babies; always right there with a gentle word, warm arms, a toy, a snack, whatever the kid needed. She wasn't so attuned to adults, or not that she let on. Sam was oblivious until Dean was near to a meltdown._

 _No. Dean wouldn't tell anyone any of that. He should be able to handle himself. All the times he'd told himself 'Man up, you're a Winchester, not a baby', he'd been using the only coping mechanism he had. And it worked. For now._

* * *

There were voices… No. Just one voice. Talking to itself? No, it paused between strings of words, for a long time. Long enough for a reply. But there was no reply. The voice just kept talking quietly and pausing, talking and pausing.

A dull roar could also be heard. Sounded like what I imagined an avalanche from far away would sound like. Kind of loud, but not earth-shattering. Low and constant in pitch. Complete with an impending sense of doom. Yeah. Avalanche.

Why wasn't the voice worried about the avalanche?

I was aware that my eyes were closed. Try as I might, I just couldn't get them to open. I had to warn the voice, it obviously didn't hear the roar of the snow falling down that mountain.

A soft groan was the only sound I managed to make.

I felt whatever I was laying on shift and start to draw me down towards the lowest point. _The avalanche is already here?!_ I thought with no small amount of alarm. It had sounded so far away, yet the ground was giving way beneath me.

The voice, though, it was still talking. Somehow, it sounded more urgent now. Something about an officer? Must've finally heard or seen the coming disaster. But then it was gone; the voice stopped.

 _Wait, I can't move. Take me with you. Don't leave me!_ I wanted to speak, I was trying so hard, but I couldn't even open my eyes. _I don't even know where I am and I'm going to die here. They'll never find me. My friends won't know what happened to me…_

"I'm not going anywhere, Li." The voice was much louder now. I felt a cool hand grip my shoulder and squeeze.

 _Get me out of here._ I wanted to scream. _We have to get out before-_

"You comin' around, or should I just take that little whisper as a win and wait a couple more hours?"

"Huh?" The adrenaline rush I got from panicking about the avalanche allowed me to push the word through my lips and open my eyes just a crack.

It was bright out here. Not too bright, kind of overcast-sky-bright, but still. I guess avalanches can happen on sunny days. That's actually when most of them happen, right? Some snow melts in the sun and gives way. Boom. Avalanche.

But… the colors were all wrong.

Snow was usually white, or gray if it was old or dirty. The blurry shapes in my limited view were very out of place. Green mostly, with splotches of pink and blue. Orange when I looked down, but then bright white and red close to me. And none of it was moving. Then again, the coming wall of snow sounded like it was behind me.

"You gonna wake up?" The voice asked.

"She make a noise?" Another voice asked. This second voice sounded terrible. Exhausted, raw, perhaps slightly hungover. That voice wasn't in much better condition than me to escape the coming doom. The first voice should probably help that one to safety; at least it could talk and probably walk.

"Yeah, she said 'don't leave me'. Loud and clear. Well- not loud, but y'know." The first voice said. "I don't think she knows where she is though."

"Did you tell 'er?"

"No. She was passed out until just now. Why would I tell her where we are if she can't even hear me?"

"You were just talking to her, dude."

"Shut up. I think she's trying to come around."

First voice was right. I was trying. As hard as I could. But all I seemed to be able to do was open my eyes a slit. The ground shifted again and I was no longer being pulled to one side. _What kind of avalanche is this?_

Had I been able to, I would've jumped when something big came into my limited and very fuzzy field of view. It was blurry but moving, and it freaked me out. At least my fear forced my eyes a little wider.

Some things finally came into focus with the added light entering my eyes. Soft, brownish hair. Freckles. Two green eyes displaying hope and dread at the same time; it reminded me of the look on a person's face when they saw a baby take his first steps. They would either be celebrating or comforting within seconds, but in that moment, the dichotomy of emotion would be almost too much to bear.

Kind of like the relief I felt as I finally recognized Dean.

"Hi." I croaked, feeling tears jump to my eyes. For some reason, I really, _really_ wanted to cry. I was just as exhausted as the second voice, which upon further deliberation was probably Sam, sounded. Usually I get angry or impatient when I'm tired. Not emotional. Not like this. _What happened?_

Dean's smirk didn't reach his eyes. "Hey. How're you feelin'?"

"Tired." I said slowly. I was just about to try to warn him about the avalanche when a diamond shaped clock came into view.

It wasn't until that moment that I realized I wasn't cold. I was cocooned in a burrito of mostly soft, somewhat scratchy blankets, and the thing under me was squishy. A mattress.

 _I'm still in the motel room?_ The fact dawned on me slowly as I took in the terrible paint on the wall I was facing; a diamond-patterned mix of almost the whole rainbow, with a battered diamond shaped clock on it. And come to think of it, that avalanche sounded a lot like an old air conditioner. _I must've slept late. Dean's gonna be pissed._

"You can sleep some more if you want."

 _What?_

"We don't need to be anywhere until around noon. It's only eight now." Dean said softly, his eyes scanning my face as I took in this new information.

"'Kay." I mumbled, allowing my eyes to close again. I wasn't going to question Dean's choice. I could feel the tired ache in my bones and I trusted Dean with my life.

In my time on this earth, I have been drunk. Not hammered, not blitzed, but drunk. My friends always made sure I got back to my apartment safely and we kept tabs on how many drinks each of us had so that no one got to 'hammered' or 'blitzed'. Girl's nights were always amazing fun with my crowd, but they were never dangerous or a threat to our health.

I've had hangovers. Annoying headaches, aversion to loud noises for a day or so, and a temporary hatred of anything bright. I've felt the burning irritation of stomach acid as it made my throat and mouth raw the morning after an alcohol fueled adventure with my friends. I've been subject to the shame of cleaning my own vomit out of my carpet more than once. It's true that I have a sensitive stomach. Not all of that was a lie to hide my precious secret. Those drunken stomachaches were usually accompanied by an irritating and painful pulsing in my head that accelerated the development of nausea to the point where I literally couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.

However, on this day, as I awoke from what could only be described as a short hibernation, I thought my head was going to explode. When I opened my eyes, what little light was in the room stung so profoundly that I hardly even had time to realize that my vision was going in and out of focus with every beat of my heart. And every beat ploughed its way mercilessly through my head as well. My body ached, though it was worse in some places. My knees and palms stung; there was a particularly distressing pain coming from my head. And then there was a burning and itching coming from my thigh-

 _My right thigh. Wait… That's important, but why… No. What's wrong with the baby? What's happening to me?_ I thought frantically, pushing through the fogginess that lingered in my brain. _Gotta get outta here. Gotta call Cas._

I rolled over on what seemed to be a bed and found the edge without opening my eyes and subjecting them to that torture again. My body didn't want to move, but it would if I willed it hard enough.

Then, like a tsunami came the nausea. I forced my eyes open a little bit, willing to bear the pain so I wouldn't have to clean my own juices again. I saw a door that was slightly ajar and went for it. If it was the door to the outside, fine. Let nature deal with it. If it was the door to the bathroom, even better.

After closing my eyes against their brilliant assault, I stumbled my way to the door and threw it open. A wave of hot, moist air hit my face but I didn't realize what was going on until I'd already heaved into the porcelain throne a few times.

"Ali?"

I froze. The voice was very close, like there wasn't even a door between us. And it was familiar.

"Sam?" I called just as another wave of gagging and heaving enveloped me.

"You feeling okay?"

After a few more heaves, I was able to respond. "Jus' peachy."

The shower handle squeaked and suddenly the water stopped. I heard the rustle of a towel over the sound of stomach contents hitting water. Then Sam was kneeling beside me, guiding my undoubtedly bizarre looking bed headed strands out of danger.

"When'd you wake up?" Sam asked softly. The pounding in my ears was loud, but I was half certain that I could hear him anywhere. Either of them, really.

"Two minutes ago." I said, my voice raw and trembling from the exertion of emesis.

"I was supposed to wait up for you. Thought I had time for a quick shower. Sorry."

"Don' be." I said, spitting acid into the toilet and holding my head in my hands as a wave of confusion swept over me. This was just morning sickness, right? So why… "Why were you waiting up?"

"What do you remember?" Sam asked, turning so that he was leaning against the cabinet.

"I have a hair band in my pack. Should be on top." I said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sink, where I'd left my toiletry bag. Sam grabbed it without standing up and quickly produced the pink hair band. "Thanks."

Sam sat back, his job now taken by the elastic around my head. I lost a few more ounces of stomach acid and mucus to the porcelain throne before answering his question. "Club. Felt weird. Went outside to clear my head. And then-"

Oh my gosh. How had I not remembered to say this first? "I saw the monster, Sam, it was in the alley beside the club. It chased me all over town, and I was exhausted, but I kept going until I tried to hide…" My mind hit a blank. I thought there should be something there. I _felt_ terror, anguish, intense pain, cold… but then comfort, warmth, and safety. So why weren't there visual memories to go with those remembrances of emotions? Where were my auditory memories? "And I don't remember much after that."

"What did the monster look like?" Sam asked. I glanced over at him and saw his eyes narrow slightly. His hair was dripping wet, towel covering only his lower half, and the rest of him just looked tired. Big dark circles had formed under his eyes and he was as pale as I felt. At least the shower seemed to have put some pink back in his cheeks.

"It… it was dark out, and the thing always seemed to be between me and the light, but-" Pause for episode of retching. "It was big and had claws. Fast too. Like nothing Bobby taught me about." All the talking was starting to wear me out.

"So, it had claws. Could the claws leave marks like these?" Sam asked, gesturing to my arm.

Slowly, I looked down and there, on my arm, I saw two sets of massive bruises. My other arm only had one, but none of them hurt all that much. Nonetheless, panic started to set in. _I was that close to getting killed by that thing?_ Breath started to come in rapid gasps and my chest cinched down on my heart so it felt like it was going to burst from my body. I looked to Sam, hoping he had an explanation, or at least some reassurance that I wasn't marked, or cursed, or otherwise being hunted right now.

"Ali, you're safe now."

"Where's Dean?" _What if it got him? We have to find it before… before something bad happens._

"He's safe too. He just went to the store up the road. We didn't think you'd wake up so early."

 _Safe._ I felt like a limp noodle as the tension left my body. As gross as it was, I leaned heavily on the toilet seat so I wouldn't topple over. "Did the thing get me? I- I don't remember." I asked quietly.

"No. At least, not from what Dean and I figured out." Sam said, avoiding my gaze.

"What do you think happened?" I asked. "If it wasn't the monster, then what was it that did this to me?"

"Different kind of monster." Sam said softly, fiddling with a string from his towel and giving it his full attention.

"Sam, what happened to me?"

The look in his eyes as he glanced up at me had me utterly confused and slightly unnerved. It was a look of shame.

"We think… we think someone drugged you." I almost didn't hear his voice, it was so small.

"Drugged me? But you checked my drink and I know nobody poked me with a needle. Did I have a patch on me or-"

"It was the drink." He said, turning his whole head away and looking at the faded tile floor.

 _"I'm the DD tonight, can't drink." I had said as I pushed the glass away and out of sight._

 _"Lemon-lime soda. None of the good juice. That's expensive, no free samples." The bartender had yelled from far down the crowded countertop._

 _"Oh." I returned my attention to the glass. There was a man looking into it curiously. The same man who had been trying to flirt with me for the last few minutes. I took my drink back quickly._

Not quickly enough, it seems.

Realization swept over me. I reached a hand out and rested it on his shoulder. "Sam, it's okay. I- I shouldn't have asked you to check it. I should've just thrown it out. I made a mistake." He made no move to respond. "How do you figure it was the drink? Did Dean see something we didn't?"

"I threw up all night." Sam whispered to the door on the other side of the room.

 _He had some of my drink. Just a sip, to test it._ I remembered with a hint of horror. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He said shortly, finally looking me in the eye. "But you were comatose for _hours_ , Ali. We couldn't wake you up at all, no matter what we tried. Dean said- he said-" Sam stopped speaking and turned away again. There was a solid thirty seconds of silence in that little bathroom. I swallowed back a weak heave so he would have to speak again. "He said he called Cas."

"That bad?" I asked, remembering just minutes ago when my thigh had been in such pain. It still was, come to think of it.

Sam nodded without sparing me a glance. "You would've died. If Cas hadn't come…"

 _No. No no no. Is my baby… is he still here?_ I wondered with dread. My hand found its way to my belly. I didn't feel different; not like when Cas took Kole from me. There was no creeping emptiness, no sickening tug to fill the void. I very much _felt_ pregnant, but was my little miracle still alive in there? Or had I… had I lost him too?

 _I can't lose him. I can't go through that again. How can I… They can't know…_ I lost my thoughts in the deluge of panic, desperation, and dread that filled my very _soul_. Somewhere in my mind, I knew that if I lost this baby that would be it. I couldn't survive another loss like that.

"You okay?" Sam's voice broke my panic and I locked eyes with him, unwilling to remove either of my hands from their resting places.

"Huh?"

"You don't look so good." Sam said, the shame being replaced by worry in his eyes.

"I, uh, what did Cas say? What was wrong? What did he do?" I asked, swallowing back the lump that had formed in my throat.

"Dean didn't say."

"Well when is Dean getting back?"

"I don't know. He's been gone for like half an hour. Shouldn't be too long." Sam said.

I sighed heavily and tried to keep my panic from getting out of control. Eventually, Sam stood and got dressed. He brought me a glass of water, which I gladly took.

He was wearing one of Dean's shirts, a faded, well-loved Metallica tee that hung not-quite-low-enough over his jeans. I was wondering why he was wearing that when I realized that I wasn't in my dress anymore. Blush exploded over my cheeks. "Uh, Sam?" I called from where I stood in front of the bathroom sink, rinsing out my mouth and gawking at the light bruise in the shape of a hand on my face.

"Yeah?" He was out in the main room, typing away at his laptop already.

"Uh… How did I… I mean, who… Er, where's my dress?"

"Probably with my clothes from yesterday, in the laundry bag." Sam called. He sounded so nonchalant. Like there was nothing weird about my clothes not being where I put them- on my body.

"And how did it get in there?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"You'll have to ask Dean."

 _Shit._ I almost groaned. Dean must've been the one to take the dress off and put me in these clothes. _How embarrassing. I'll never hear the end of this._

I got over my embarrassment pretty quickly and changed clothes yet again. _Are these Dean's sweats? …And Sam's hoodie?_ _What happened last night?_

Jeans, fresh underclothes (I tried hard to ignore the fact that the ones I was wearing were not the ones I'd put on to go to the club yesterday), a baggy Aerosmith shirt that Dean had outgrown (or so he said), and a pair of thick socks. I only had to run to the bathroom to empty my stomach once while I was changing, which I was proud of.

* * *

 **A/N: Happy Monday! I'm looking forward to those guesses about what's going on. Leave a review! Until next time...**


	32. Fragile

**A/N: Vivi here! Ah, the first week back at medical school; so stressful, so... long. Which is why I have another chapter ready for you! The first part of this was written last night (after I wrote the second part) so hopefully there aren't any rough seams in the reading. I have a feeling that a lot of you have been waiting for a chapter like this for quite a while. Maybe since the chapter 12 'Two Steps Forward, One Big Step Back'? BTW, lots of swearing in this chapter. Like more than normal. You've been warned. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _I got over my embarrassment pretty quickly and changed clothes yet again. Are these Dean's sweats? …And Sam's hoodie? What happened last night?_

 _Jeans, fresh underclothes (I tried hard to ignore the fact that the ones I was wearing were not the ones I'd put on to go to the club yesterday), a baggy Aerosmith shirt that Dean had outgrown (or so he said), and a pair of thick socks. I only had to run to the bathroom to empty my stomach once while I was changing, which I was proud of._

* * *

"Sure you're okay?" I heard Sam stand and come to rest outside the bathroom door as I squinted against the burning in my throat, my head hung low over the toilet bowl.

"I think so." I said, my voice raw from the abuse.

"Do you need anything? I can run over to that convenience store on the corner…"

"I'll be fine." I flushed and stood, my legs shaky. Brushing my teeth felt wonderful, but my throat still hurt and I was still nauseous.

Sam was still outside the door when I opened it. Made me jump a little. "What's wrong?" I asked, surprised yet again when I saw the weary expression on his face.

He sighed deeply, and ran his fingers through his hear, but as soon as he started talking a wave of emotion ran over him and he just wouldn't _stop_ talking. "I… I'm sorry. I was supposed to protect you but I thought we could get out quicker if we split up to search the place. And I thought you were getting a headache so I figured we should leave soon and we couldn't leave until we searched all over- I thought I was sending you to look in the safer areas. Y'know, the booths filled with people and the dancefloor where there would be plenty of eyes to catch anything trying to hurt you-"

"Sam." I tried to interrupt, but it didn't work.

"And I would've dumped the drink if you hadn't looked so glad to have it. Maybe that would help your headache, y'know? I wasn't gonna keep that from you, I'm not a jerk-"

"Sam, stop talking."

He wasn't even looking at me anymore. His eyes bounced all around the room except where I stood; it was like I was invisible. "But I should've taken it from you, I should've known better. Nothing that's free is good, right? I mean, when's the last time we got anything good, had anything good happen, without having to pay through the nose for-"

It may have been a mistake. I might have overstepped my boundaries. Maybe I acted irrationally on a particularly overwhelming surge of emotion and hormones. There were no thoughts, no premeditation before it happened; I didn't even know I was going to do it until it was done. Nervous flips replaced the nausea in my stomach as I released him from the kiss, my arms falling back to my sides as he stood straight again. That kiss was the first since… since that evening in the kitchen, when there were no condoms in the bunker. "This is free."

That certainly stopped him in his tracks. He stood there, cheeks filling with color, looking dumbfounded.

"Stop saying you're sorry." I said quietly, blushing profusely as I crossed my arms and looked at the floor. "You didn't do anything that needs forgiving." There were a few seconds of silence. Neither of us moved. "Sorry if that was gross. I brushed my teeth but-"

A gentle hand lifted my chin so I had to look at him. "This isn't free, Ali." Sam said, his own voice just as soft and nervous as mine had been. His fingers left my face and dropped, allowing his arms to wind around my waist. "It's priceless. And I almost lost it. Almost lost you."

"But you didn't." I said lamely, letting my arms find their way around him as I rested my ear against his chest. Oh, how I loved that steady rhythm that spoke of a hardy and robust life, one not easily taken away. "I'm fine."

His chin rested on my head as he spoke. "You just puked for like twenty minutes."

"You puked all night."

"While you were out cold."

I sighed at the lack of emotion behind our words. Both of us were tired of putting up fronts, that much I knew. So much of my energy lately had been funneled into seeming put together and smart and tough and it was starting to wear me down. I couldn't be everything I thought I had to be all the time; it would be like a thunderstorm trying to be a hurricane. Sure, some would believe it for a while, but eventually the storm would have to fess up and admit that no, it wasn't as powerful as it made itself out to be. And… I had a feeling that Sam knew I was exhausted by all this acting. He let me pretend to be a hurricane, but he knew better. A hurricane would know another hurricane if it saw one.

Still, it really did bother me that he had been sick when he should have been sleeping and _I_ was to blame. I just didn't seem to have the oomph to say everything I wanted to say the way it should be said. "I'm sorry I poisoned you."

"You didn't. Some ass who thought he could just take you did that, Ali. If I ever find out who did it-"

"Cool it, tiger." I let my eyes drift closed, comforted by the sound of his voice and the beat of his heart. "You have me now, don't you?"

"Yeah. If you want me to."

"I do."

A soft kiss landed on top of my head. "How are you feeling?"

I sighed at the question, but did a quick mental check. "Not so queasy anymore. Kinda sore still. Stressed out."

"Stressed out?"

 _Right. He doesn't know about…_ "Yeah."

"About what?"

 _I might have just lost another child, but I don't know because no one told me and I can't tell on my own._ "What do you think?" I asked, tears starting to fill my eyes. _Crying now won't do a thing, girl. Pull yourself together._ A tiny sob escaped my lips. _He can't help. He doesn't know about the baby. But… but he could know. And he would help, if I asked._

"You're safe now, Ali. That's all that matters." Sam's arms tightened around me and he pulled me to the bed, sitting and tugging me into his lap so I could cry unimpeded into his shoulder.

"It's not though, Sam. I- I don't know… I can't feel…" I said between heart wrenching sobs as my hand fisted desperately in his shirt, trying to hold on to reality and not fall into a flashback that would rip open old wounds yet again. _I can't feel him, Sam. I don't know if he's okay and I_ have _to know. Kole- he was just gone, and there was a void, but now… I don't know._

"Are you still in pain? Is- is something numb?" Sam asked, alarm clear in his tone.

"No pain." I breathed. "Nothing numb. I- he… Sam, I- I'm pr-" A sudden sob cut me off just in time for me to second guess myself. _NO! They can't know! You can ruin the 'don't fall for him' rule, you can trash the 'leave when you show' rule, cuz you're already showing a little, but you CANNOT break the 'keep the kid a secret' rule. No way. You'll doom countless people that they could have saved. You'll ruin their lives. You'll lose every chance at them staying together like the well-oiled machine they are. So shut the fuck up, you selfish bitch._ "I'm- I'm probably gonna be sore for a while, huh?"

Sam moved one hand to rub soothing circles up and down my back. "Yeah. Couple days, probably. It's okay if you need to tell me something, Ali. I'm here for you, remember? No matter what. You don't have to be so strong all the time. Let me in. I can help."

I didn't say a word. I just spent the next ten minutes curled up with Sam on the bed, crying and clinging and letting him kiss my head. After a while, the sobs calmed down. I wouldn't know if my son was okay until I could talk to Cas, which could be a while. I shouldn't dump all of this on Sam. Not fair to him, no matter the circumstances. "Sorry."

He responded by pulling me closer and kissing my face until I looked up and met his lips with my own. The act made me smile a little through the red eyes and snotty nose. A curious thought popped into my emotionally worn mind, as it did regularly when I let my mind wander, and I didn't have the willpower to stop it before it slipped out this time. "Are we ever going to actually get together?"

Sam stiffened and moved so that I could more easily see his face. He looked unsure. "Is that what you want?"

I nodded, smiling weakly at the silly look of surprise my response elicited.

"Do you mean like physically, or…"

I rolled my eyes and huffed an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah. All of the above." Embarrassed, I sniffed my nose loudly and cuddled closer, putting my head under his chin. His arms tightened around me as I continued. "I was kind of hoping to eventually be more than fuck buddies, but I'm not going to push you. Free will and all that, right? You don't have to-"

"Fuck buddies?" Sam had a smile in his tone as he laughed. "Who says I'm going to fuck you?"

It was my turn to be surprised and confused. And a little hurt. I thought Sam liked me… Thought I was at least kind of attractive. "You- you don't have to. I mean-"

Sam squeezed me tight. "No way am I going to just fuck you. There's nothing special, nothing… _meaningful_ in that. It's quick, it's dirty, it's just… You deserve more. You deserve to have someone _make love_ to you. I want to take my time, I want to learn you, every bit of you. Every curve, every sensitive spot. Ali, you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you ask for this."

"Why did you wait until I asked? You have a say too."

"I didn't know if you still felt… I don't know. Physical stuff is one thing, and that's okay, but I, uh, I kinda wanted more. I wanted there to be something real between us before we jumped in, so I didn't ruin… _us._ " He sighed; the breath warmed the top of my head as I pressed my forehead into his chest. "You mean a lot to me, Ali. I didn't want to have us end up parting ways because I was greedy."

"You are the opposite of greedy." I mumbled sleepily. Before I could contain it, a huge yawn stretched my face and pushed a few straggling tears over my lashes.

"I think you should rest. We can pick up this conversation later." Sam said. I whimpered in protest as he moved away. "Get some sleep, beautiful. I'll be here when you wake up. Promise."

"Stay." I whined even as he stood and covered me with several layers of blankets.

"I told Dean I'd look some things up. And if I stay, I might not be able to keep my hands to myself."

"Is that a problem?" I asked, my eyelids already dropping. Emesis was certainly an exhausting pastime. Totally not worth the effort.

"I don't have any condoms at the moment."

I groaned in disappointment.

"I'll try to pick some up, but it might be weird if Dean's with me. And I'm not going to leave you alone until you feel better." Sam said.

"Don't let Dean know." I mumbled.

Sam chuckled. "I don't think he'd have a problem with it. He's lectured me about protection for years. _Much_ longer than I've actually been going at it. He doesn't need to know who I'll be sharing them with though."

I may have mumbled something, but Sam was right. I was exhausted. I drifted off too fast to care if my words were actually words or not.

* * *

By the time Dean came back I was curled up in bed, awake, feeling miserable and worrying my brain into a tizzy, with Sam pecking away at his keyboard. I jumped at the sound of the deadbolt turning over and stood quickly as the door opened. I had some questions that needed answers. Like _now._

Dean didn't even close the door. He saw me and dropped the bags he was carrying. I was engulfed in a tight, warm hug before I could even say hi.

Oh. Right. Neither of us thought to tell him I woke up.

The greeting that I managed was muffled into his jacket as I returned the sentiment, holding him tight. A wave of safety washed over me as I breathed him in and felt the prickliness of stubble through my hair on top of my head. The embrace lasted a solid seven seconds, during which I could have sworn Dean's breathing hitched a few times. The past few hours must have been hell in that head of his.

"Dean, the door." I muttered into his shirt when I let go and he was reluctant to. He broke away after that and pushed the door shut, clearing his throat as he did so.

"Thought I told you to sleep some more." Dean said. I went to help him with the bags he brought in, even though there were only four.

"I guess I'm a rebel." I said, my voice still rough. The sound actually reflected fairly accurately how it felt at that moment.

"You get cleaned up?" Dean turned to Sam.

"Yeah." Sam didn't look up from his computer as we toted the bags past him and into the kitchenette.

"Iggy Pop here decided to put on a Technicolor performance all over himself and the comforter last night." Dean explained as he started going through the bags. "Surprised this place doesn't smell worse. What with your dumpster dunk and his 'throat singing'."

I frowned. "Dumpster dunk?"

"Yeah, you fell in a puddle of garbage juice last night before I could get to you. Knocked your head pretty bad." Dean stopped what he was doing to plant his left palm on my forehead, surprising me. "You're still warm at least."

"Was I not?"

He looked at me like I was six years old. "You were wearing a club dress. It was like forty degrees last night. I chased you around the town for over an hour, Li. You were borderline hypothermic when I finally caught you."

"W- wait…" I stammered, recalling what I could from the terror of last night. I'd seen claws and heard growls... hadn't I? "You were chasing me?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean said, as if it were a well-known fact. "You were hallucinating. You screamed and ran every time you saw me. Made it real hard to get you off the streets and out of the eye of the law. I passed two police cars looking for you."

"Sorry." I said quietly, absently rubbing my stomach, which was plotting its next visit to the Oval Office as we spoke. Standing up quickly had not been the best idea.

Dean sighed, defeated. "It's not your fault you were drugged."

"Is that why you called Cas?" I asked innocently.

I got a look of well-trained patience in return. "No, I called Cas because that tattoo on your leg is infected. It's probably the only thing that kept you warm enough to not die last night. _He's_ the one who found the drugs in your system. Pulled 'em out and said you'd be fine." Dean returned to his task of removing things from their bags.

"Were those his exact words? That _I_ 'd be fine? Did he heal my _whole_ body?" I asked carefully, tension slowly cranking down my fragile heart.

"He said you'd recover. And no, he didn't heal your whole body. Fixed your head and sucked out the chemicals and he was about ready to keel over after that. Why?" Dean asked, pulling tape and a box of heavy duty trash bags from the grocery bags he'd brought in.

My voice was barely a whisper. "Just wondering." _So I actually could have lost my kid. It's still a possibility._ My whole body seemed to go numb.

"Hey, I think you should sit down." Sam said, standing from the table and making his way rather quickly to where I stood.

Dean, who had been busing himself with opening the box in his hands, turned. He tossed the box back to the counter and filled his hands with my arms. For a split second, I wondered why he was pushing me. Then I realized that I was falling into him. My legs wouldn't cooperate the way I wanted them to. I soon found myself sat firmly on my bed, two pairs of worried eyes staring at me. One from above, and one, a handsome hazel set, from where their owner was knelt beside me. He had a hand on my shoulder, which I occasionally swayed against. I'd have to thank him later for not letting me face plant on the nasty carpet.

"Go back to sleep, Li." Dean said, letting go of me and crossing his arms. "I don't think that shit's outta your system yet."

"No. 'm fine. Really." I said breathlessly. I hadn't realized that I was almost hyperventilating until that moment.

"Don't lie to us." Dean said firmly. "Lying never leads to good things."

"Ali, it's okay if you need a little more time to rest. We don't have to do anything for three more hours, and that can wait if it has to. Or Dean and I can do it alone." Sam suggested calmly.

"One of us is staying with her until she's at least able to walk again." Dean said, not looking away from me.

"Fine. One of us can do it alone if we need to." Sam amended his statement. "Don't suffer for no reason, Ali."

"I'm not suffering for no reason." I snapped, a bit more forcefully than I meant to. Sam frowned. Dean's eyes narrowed. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. My voice was more subdued this time, much to my satisfaction. "I just don't feel right, okay?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Neither do I."

Dean rolled his eyes at us. "Go back to bed, both of you."

"But you brought coffee, didn't you?" Sam asked.

"Bed." Dean said, more firmly this time.

I flopped back, letting my legs dangle over the edge of my bed as Sam sulked over to the other bed and dropped heavily on the bare sheets. I saw the comforter balled up in the corner, the underside on the outside. Dean must've rolled the puke up and out of the way so Sam could sleep through the night without rolling in it.

The mother hen went to the kitchen and returned with a handful of pills, two glasses of water, and a tube of what looked like toothpaste. "Take these. Nausea and pain. I even got the brands you like." Dean set three little pills and the water on my nightstand before doing the same for Sam. Then he tossed the tube into my lap. "Antibiotic cream. I don't want that tattoo getting worse."

I simply nodded, surprised and touched by the sudden splurge on my behalf. All the pills were gone in seconds and I gently applied the cream to my very angry looking skin. The relief was instant; it stopped itching and burning, but the pulsing was still there.

Dean went outside with the tape and a trash bag for a few minutes. When he returned, he only had the tape. _Cleaning out the car?_ Eventually he propped himself up against the headboard next to Sam and closed his eyes. _Guess he didn't get much sleep last night._ When I heard both boys breathe deep and even, I got up and crept out of the room, my cell in hand.

I was borderline furious when Cas didn't answer his phone. In fact, it didn't even ring. It went right to voicemail. _Dammit Cas. The one time I actually need you and your phone is dead. You better find a way to call me asap because I am freaking out here. Would it have been so hard to stick around until I woke up or better yet, just wake me up in the first place? Are we really fine or did you just fix me? Cuz I get that you're bitter about me not telling the guys I'm pregnant but I swear to your Daddy if you let him die, I will find a way to make you suffer. I can't lose another baby, Cas. This isn't a game to me. I_ need _him to be okay. I-_

"Allison." The voice behind me scared the daylights out of me and I whirled around, ready to scream if I had to.

"Cas." I breathed, feeling tears begin to pool in my eyes. Never in my life had I been so relieved to see a disheveled man in a trench coat staring at me outside a sketchy motel.

* * *

 **A/N: Nice chapter break, right? Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your comments sometimes change how and what I write, so if you want something, tell me. If you hate something, tell me. You never know what I'll incorporate...**


	33. Who's Next?

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry this is going so slow. I've already written the next few chapters, but I'll try to pick up the pace in what I'm writing now. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice_

 _"Allison." The voice behind me scared the daylights out of me and I whirled around, ready to scream if I had to._

 _"Cas." I breathed, feeling tears begin to pool in my eyes. Never in my life had I been so relieved to see a disheveled man in a trench coat staring at me outside a sketchy motel._

* * *

He took a few steps closer to me before speaking softly, but firmly. I was surprised by the bite in his voice. "There will be no need to continue your surprisingly violent rant. I would never put selfish whims above my friends, even if I knew there was nothing they could do to retaliate. I apologize for not waking you, or healing you completely. I- I am not at 'full angel juice' and I do not wish to weaken myself without significant necessity. You will heal in time."

A shaky sigh passed my lips and I nodded, feeling my knees go weak again. This time though, I managed to hold myself upright. "Sorry about… all that. I just… I was scared-"

"Because I've taken a child from you before." Cas said flatly, coldly meeting my tear filled gaze. "I am well aware."

"No, Cas… You- you didn't know with Kole. He had already passed when you…" I paused, unsure of what to say. I really needed to know if my baby, not Kole but my second baby, was actually okay. I just didn't know how to go about out and out asking him after saying such rude things and causing him to speak with such frustration. "I'm sorry I asked a lot of you. It's not fair to you and I shouldn't have yelled at you in my head." I paused to take another deep breath. "I was just scared because I didn't know if you had gotten there in time. My tattoo is so inflamed; I can still feel it pulsing. I didn't know if that was normal, or if he was… not okay. Or g-gone." My voice shook at the last few words; I had to force them out, even though I didn't want to think about it.

"The sigil was active for far longer than it should have been. The redness and pain should heal within a few days, as will the bruises and the lacerations." Cas' voice had lost some of its edge, but he still looked upset. "I have no doubt that you'll recover. Dean is a talented nurse."

I twitched an empty smile at Dean's new title. "Don't let him catch you saying that. He'll get all surly. Start threatening to kill things."

Cas shook his head, shrugging. "The fact remains, and is supported by substantial evidence." Then his face looked so tired all of a sudden, those pretty blue eyes of his losing some of their light. "I have to leave. Please let me know where you are each day. I was unable to locate you when the sigil was activated. It was… incredibly unnerving."

"Will do. But Cas-" I said.

"Dean provided me with a new cellular phone. My previous device was crushed yesterday."

"Oh. So that's why you didn't answer." I said, suddenly feeling terribly guilty about my earlier words. The guilt was dwarfed by an overwhelming need to find out the health of my son. But the way this conversation was going, I wasn't sure I would get my answer.

"Yes. Dean should be able to provide you with the number. Goodbye, Allison."

"Wait, Cas-" And with that, the angel was gone.

I shivered lightly in the cool breeze, stunned by the lack of reassurance in our conversation. Cas was usually so supportive… why hadn't he just outright told me if the kid was okay or not? I knew he couldn't fix everything, but if I lost him… if I lost another child… he would have told me. Right? Cas was my friend, he wouldn't lie to me. He wouldn't just take a dead baby from my body and not tell me. And he even said that he wouldn't put his own selfish whims above his friends. He wouldn't _not_ help my baby just because I made him promise not to tell the guys about the pregnancy when I had no intention of telling them myself... Right?

Unless he didn't consider my son to be a friend. Had Cas just worded himself out of any guilt for not saving the little life?

I returned to the room as quietly as possible, still shaking, but not from the cold. After shutting and locking the door, making sure I hadn't disturbed the salt line, I glanced to the bed where Sam and Dean were sleeping. I wanted comfort. I wanted reassurance. I _really_ wanted to be held and rocked and supported as I fell apart. But I knew I couldn't have that. I knew I wouldn't be comforted or reassured or supported if I told them why I was having a breakdown. They would yell at me for not telling them, scold me and send me back to the bunker- that was if the best case scenario happened. Worst case… well, I didn't know long I'd survive on the streets in this weather.

No. I would just have to hold myself together. I didn't need a Winchester to save me. It's not like they could have made a difference in this situation even if they knew about the baby. I still would've gotten drugged. The sigil still would've been activated. As long as they couldn't see me cry, nothing would change. I could stay with them, if I made it past the loss of my little one. I could hunt and kill to my heart's desire, getting revenge on every evil thing for taking my children from me.

But for now, I just had to make it bed without waking the brothers. Baby steps.

Turns out Dean wasn't sleeping. I tensed a little when we met eyes, but even though he watched me shuffle the whole way back to my bed, he didn't move or say a word. Probably didn't want to wake Sammy. _Please tell me you didn't hear anything from outside…_

Despite my nerves, I slept a few more hours with my back turned to the guys. No more weird dreams happened. No more feeling like my head was going to explode. No more terrifying ache in the pit of my stomach. Just a dull nausea that served as a not-so-friendly reminder of last night's events. And this nausea? This was so much worse than morning sickness. And yet morning sickness would've been welcomed with joyful arms.

* * *

When I woke up again, Sam was back at the table with his laptop and Dean was at the stove. I tried not to move, tried not to aggravate my insides, but I lost the battle anyway. My stomach finally flipped and I gagged, slamming my hand over my mouth before running unsteadily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me as I began to full on heave. _So much worse than before…_

"She's spewing now too?" I heard Dean ask.

"Since she woke up this morning." Sam said.

"Stomach thing or the drugs?"

"Probably some of both. She woke up while I was in the shower and rushed in to… let loose."

"Must've been bad if she resorted to that." Dean's voice had a hint of humor to it. I almost missed it because my head was in the bowl.

"Shut up, dude. Hey, did you bring coffee earlier?"

"Yeah, and hot chocolate for Miss Tummy Troubles."

"Did you just say tummy?" Now Sam's voice was the one poking fun.

"It's a word. People say it. I left the drinks in the car."

"Why'd you do that?"

"Do I look like I have a third arm?"

"Well… are you gonna go get 'em?" The tone of Sam's voice took on a much more docile, almost pleading tone.

I heard Dean sigh. "Don't burden yourself with getting up or anything." The door opened and a few seconds later shut. "Here. You're getting the coffee next time."

"Sure." There was a pregnant pause and I released even more acid into the toilet. "It's cold."

"So heat it up."

"You're already standing." I heard an aggravated groan before the microwave opened and closed and buzzed loudly to life.

"You better be eternally grateful."

"Will do. Hey, so get this: there have been other deaths on Squaw Mountain." Sam said, his voice thick with intrigue.

"Anything weird?"

"Couple hikers falling off cliffs, a bear attack, two hunting 'accidents'… Raphy Stilts was found there. The guy who attacked Carpenter. Anyway, he apparently hung himself at Lover's Point. A ranger found him the other day. And then there was Carpenter. Guess they're ruling his death a suicide too." Sam said.

"That's what Officer Hatrick said on the phone. Said Carpenter killed himself." Dean replied. "Did you get into their database yet? Find his files?"

"Yeah. Found pictures of the scene too. There wasn't much left of the guy's head, and it looks like more than a couple animals stopped to visit. Cause of death was a gunshot wound through the palatine bone, exiting through the occiput."

"English."

"He put the gun in his mouth and the bullet blasted the back of his skull to splinters. They found blood stains twenty feet away on a couple trees. Apparently that's the first suicide that's happened in recent history on that mountain."

"Who found him? Somebody see birds and call or did some poor sucker literally stumble upon ol' Carpenter?"

Sam made a sound of disgust. "Boy scout troop on a hiking trip. Some kid saw the red shirt he was wearing and the older boys went to investigate. They called the police."

"Soup's ready." I heard the stove click off and my stomach turned at the thought of anything trying to enter it.

"Says he looked like he'd been living out there a few days; dirty, dehydrated, scratched up. But he was like fifteen feet from the trail and he had nothing but the gun with him." Sam said, confused. "They searched the area and didn't find any camping gear."

"We'll go up and check out the scene after lunch, okay? Both of you need some fluids. And I'm not dealing with the 'I'm fine's today, so don't even try. I know neither of you are 100% and some blood on a tree can wait a couple hours until I know you aren't gonna pass out on me up on that mountain." I heard movement and jumped as someone rapped their knuckles on the bathroom door. "Food, Li. Come and get it."

"I _will_ throw up on you." I threatened, resting my head on my arm over the toilet bowl.

"Think you need to stay in today?"

I rolled my eyes. I didn't feel _that_ bad. And there was no way I was gonna be left alone. I would have a breakdown if they left. "No."

"Then you gotta eat something before we leave."

"Aw, c'mon." I groaned, suppressing the latest contraction of my stomach.

"I am not carrying you down a mountain, Li." Dean said. I heard him walk away. "Sam, you know soup and computers don't mix."

"Yeah." Sam said, like he was only half listening.

"Sam. Seriously. We can't afford a new laptop."

"Okay, Dean."

"Laptop or soup, kid. Choose one."

"Got it." Pause. "Hey, I was using that-"

"Eat."

I spat the last of my stomach's donation to the flusher out and stood, unsteady on my feet. Waiting a few seconds, I seemed to gain my balance quickly. Both guys were sitting at the table, which they'd pulled up close to one of the beds. Dean sat on the bed and loudly slurped while Sam was sending him dirty looks from a chair, the laptop resting on the bed behind Dean. I settled into the other chair and watched as both of them winced, wrinkling their noses in a way that left no doubt that they were brothers. There was already a bowl of soup at my place, so I started slowly sipping, hoping to wash away some of the barf breath I was sharing with the class. The warm liquid burned in my stomach, but was actually somewhat soothing to the nausea, which ebbed away after I downed half the bowl. I ended up having two helpings. _One for me and one for…_

Once Dean cleared us to go, we loaded up and piled into the Impala.

"Uh, what happened to your window?" I stopped short at the sight of a black plastic bag taped tightly over where the passenger side window should be.

"Sam." Dean said evenly as he got in without looking at the bag.

"O-okay then."

The car smelled pretty gross, but we made it to the trailhead. Today was warmer than yesterday. I only almost collapsed twice on our hiking trip. Sam only lost it once behind a log a couple feet from the trail. Dean only rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose eight times. I thought those stats made for a decent trip, given the circumstances. I tried to take it easy so I wouldn't do any more harm, just in case Cas had done something unforgivable.

There really was nothing but some blood on a tree, and a spot on the leaf litter when we arrived at the scene. We knew this was where Carpenter killed himself because of all the yellow tape beside the trail. The same yellow tape marked off a large tree and most of a rock formation labeled Lover's Point by a half rotted wooden sign nailed to another tree. The rope was gone, but I could see where it had broken some bark off of a limb about twelve feet up. Yellow tape was not enough to protect the innocent from these horrible scenes. The trails were supposedly closed today, but without gates, closing down all of the twenty or so trailheads that fed onto the mountain was a task that the police obviously weren't up to. We had no problem getting in or out.

"Well that was a waste of time." Dean grumbled as we left the park.

I gagged at the smell in the car, having forgotten how bad it was. _Or maybe it's morning sickness? Maybe he's okay?_ I thought hopefully. "What happened in here last night?"

Dean looked at me very patiently in the rear view mirror before returning his eyes to the road. "Sammy puked all over himself. You fell in a trash puddle. I had some of both on me. My seats are slowly absorbing the smell and I'm trying not to blame anyone because everyone was fucking high last night."

I was taken aback by his language and the biting edge in his voice. Usually that kind of talk was only reserved for monsters in the heat of the moment. "Sorry." I said quietly.

Sam hung his head. "Yeah, I didn't mean to… I wasn't thinking, I- I just-"

"You did what you had to do, Sam. I'm not blaming you. Or you, Li. You weren't even conscious when I brought you back to the motel. I'm just… pissed that all that happened."

"I shoulda been more careful." I said, staring out my window as my eyes filled with tears. _Ain't that the truth. Some actions come with consequences that don't fit the crime. Oh sweety…_

"Not your fault, Li." Dean said in an even yet weighted tone. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was wrong.

We didn't talk much for the rest of the day.

* * *

When evening came around, Dean took my club dress and told me to wear pants and a long sleeved shirt. I just shrugged, not really wanting to put that sequined thing back on any time soon. We parked a lot closer to the club than we had been the previous nights. I wanted to ask why, but I figured it was because the window was busted. We'd taken everything valuable out of the car before leaving the motel. Most of our arsenal was sitting in the motel closet at the moment. I had my pink gun, Sam had a small pistol, and Dean managed to get his favorite not-so-subtle, pearl handled firearm past the bouncer. He was still calling us Gio, Francis, and Desi. Must not have talked to his boss in a while. We got in no problem.

Matthias was at the club again that evening. We stayed together this time, at a booth, and watched his every move. Not that he moved much. He stuck to the bar for most of the night, aside from the occasional bathroom break. It was too loud to talk around our table that night and I couldn't see the guy from behind Sam in the booth, so eventually I fell asleep on Sam's shoulder. It was a welcome relief from worrying about the life, or lack thereof, under my heart. No one had to wake me until it was time to leave.

Apparently it was a fruitless day. We discussed possible causes for the deaths in the car on the way home, but nothing seemed to fit well.

"Maybe it's mind control. Like- like Andy. Someone telling people to kill themselves or something." Sam offered as we sped down the road towards the motel. "Ansem, or Weber- whatever his name was- did that, remember?"

"Sam, all the 'special children' except you are dead. Unless this is a totally unrelated psychic thing we're dealing with here, or some kind of nutso spell work, I don't think that's even an option." Dean said.

"What if it's just a human poisoning people? What if Sam and I were targeted?" I asked, resting my chin on the front bench. Sitting in the back left me feeling, well, left out.

"None of the autopsy records that we have access to said anything about unusual substances in the bodies. And Carpenter looked like he'd been out there in the forest for a few days. That would have been plenty of time for a drug to either wear off or kill him." Dean said. "What happened to you two doesn't fit the pattern we're seeing. No one fought with either of you, right?"

"Not that I can remember." I said, shrugging. "But I do have a couple weird bruises."

"You found me right after I was poisoned. I remember getting to the Impala, but after that there's nothing." Sam shook his head, wincing. He probably had the same headache I had.

Dean was quiet for a minute before glancing at me in the rear view mirror. "You don't remember getting those bruises at all?"

"No. The last thing I can coherently remember is sitting in the alley beside the club. After that… things got weird, and it's kind of a trippy, jumbled mess."

"Do you remember anything touching you?"

"Aside from you, no. Well, assuming that the freaky clawed shadow monster I was seeing was you the whole time." I sighed, letting the anxiety rush through me, willing it to subside before I started shaking.

"Well, when did it touch you?"

"I remember my arms being grabbed once, and I have those bruises. I remember being picked up and falling. I can place those marks too. And I remember the dumpster. That's it."

"So… you don't remember getting slapped?" Sam asked, concern weighing heavy in his tone.

"…No."

"And you don't remember someone or something grabbing your arm again?" Dean asked.

"…No? Why does it sound like I'm being interrogated?" I asked, suddenly tensing up.

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look. I saw a flash of fear in Sam's eyes before his poker face slammed into position. Dean sighed heavily and shook his head as he turned into the motel. "We don't know what we're dealing with yet. I don't want you going anywhere on your own anymore." Dean said.

Anger suddenly burned hot in the pit of my stomach. "Excuse me? I'm not high anymore. I appreciate you taking care of me when I was incapacitated, but I'm fine now. I am an adult, and I can do what I please." I said, sitting back in my seat. "You don't own me, Winchester."

"No. I don't. But in case you haven't noticed, I'm the team lead on this job. Do you even remember what we went through during your tests? This isn't a joke, Li. This isn't teenage tantrum time. This is life or death, and you may have just been deemed next in line for whatever the hell this Orem monster is. Whether you remember or not, you fought with someone last night. And you won. We don't know how that's gonna play out."

"What we're trying to say is that we want you to be safe, Ali." Sam said, holding a hand to Dean as he shut off the car. "It's better this way."

"You think I'm next?" I asked, dumbfounded. "In the victim profile of large, muscular men who have club brawls, you think _I_ am the next to go rogue?"

"Like I said: we haven't dealt with this before. We don't know what we're up against." Dean said. "So cool it or I'm sending you and Sammy back to the bunker to research this SOB."

"You can't banish me to the bunker. I passed all your tests." I exclaimed. Was all the work I put into those stupid trials really still on the line?

"Research is a part of the gig, Li, and like it or not the bunker has some of the most valuable material when it comes to the weird shit we deal with." Dean said. "And as team lead, I will send you packing if you present a threat to the case or a team member."

"I'm not threatening anyone!"

"You're being reckless. That's threatening yourself." Dean growled.

"Whatever." I opened my door and stormed out. I stood fuming by the motel room until Sam came up to unlock it.

"It's been a long day." He said quietly.

"No shit." I grumbled as we walked into the room. Shucking my coat onto the floor, I flopped heavily on my back into the scratchy blankets of Sam's bed. I couldn't remember who I was supposed to bunk with that night, but there was no way I was sharing a bed with Dean after what he said.

Absently, I wondered when I would start to feel really sick if the worst had happened to my baby last night. Recovery from miscarriage was difficult no matter how it happened. I drifted into numbness and my eyes slid closed before tears could fall, but I didn't sleep.

Before long, I heard the motel room door open again and the familiar pattern of Dean's footsteps entered, followed by the smell of soap and vomit. _What was he doing out there?_

I was sure that by the time he came in the tears that hadn't stopped pooling in my eyes had leaked out. Sitting up, I avoided eye contact with the older hunter and just disappeared under the blankets on my bed. I desperately wanted to ask him for Cas' phone number, and had all day, but now did not seem like a good time. My eyes were red and tearing, I was sore from a long day's work and an even longer night last night, and I was pissed at him for threatening to send me away. A war was being waged in my head as I weighed the pros and cons of asking for the number right now. I _really_ needed to know if my son was okay, but I fell asleep, exhausted, before I could make a decision.

* * *

 **A/N: Stay tuned! Let me know what you think.**


	34. Hit the Ground

**A/N: Vivi here! This is a longer chapter. It's almost all I've written so far, so enjoy! And don't hate me...**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _My eyes were red and tearing, I was sore from a long day's work and an even longer night last night, and I was pissed at him for threatening to send me away. A war was being waged in my head as I weighed the pros and cons of asking for the number right now. I really needed to know if my son was okay, but I fell asleep, exhausted, before I could make a decision._

* * *

I awoke to someone whispering harshly in the room. Everything was dark, and the bed was so warm… I almost fell asleep again right then.

"Dean." Sounded like Sam's voice. That would make sense. "Dean, wake up."

"Ehh?" Dean grumbled, his face planted firmly in his pillow when I peeked out from under my own blankets.

"I found something."

"What?"

"It's a picture, you have to actually look up, dude."

There were several annoyed groans before I heard Dean roll over. "What's so important that you have to wake me up at… four in the morning?"

A small, bright light flicked on, illuminating Dean, who immediately raised a hand to cover his eyes and uttered a string of not so nice words. "I was trying to figure out what happened at the club two nights ago. I kinda remembered holding my phone, so I thought I'd look through it. And I found something." Sam sounded very excited, and didn't seem to dial the volume down at all.

"Sam, Li's still sleeping. Either keep it down or wake her up. I don't want her to feel left out again if she wakes up halfway through whatever this is." Dean said.

"Right." The light moved from Sam's hand to Dean's. Dean propped himself up on one elbow and looked at the screen with squinted eyes. I felt the bed depress next to me. Then there was a hand on my shoulder. "Ali? I found something that I think is important to the case. I want to show you and Dean. Can you wake up?"

I pouted and sighed, but sat up and stretched anyway. "What is it?" I asked, my voice betraying just how tired I was.

"I think it's a symbol I found at the club that night. I took pictures on my phone but forgot they were there. Come look." Sam stood and went to sit on the edge of Dean's bed. I sat next to Sam and Dean, against the headboard.

"Looks like a cimaruta." Dean said, rubbing his eye as he handed the phone back to Sam. "That third one, at least. The other ones just look like crests. Greek stuff."

"Wha- How do you know?" Sam asked, looking at the screen again.

I leaned over and flicked on the light. That little, blinding screen was going to give me a headache.

"Dude, half the monsters we gank are Greek." Dean said, as if it were common knowledge.

"Let me see." I finally asked. Sam handed the phone over. There was a wooden carving of a ladybug on one image, then a flower, then a weird looking upside down tree thing, then another flower and ladybug. All of the carvings were already painted over with thick looking black paint. "These look old. Like they've been there a while. Didn't the deaths just start a few months ago?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean the creature or curse or whatever hasn't been around for a while." Dean said, pulling himself up to sit against the headboard next to me. "Could be an Arae."

Sam frowned. "Don't those usually kill the person that killed whoever summoned them?"

"Maybe she doesn't know who did it and she just cursed all the people who match the profile."

"What's an Arae?" I asked, feeling utterly lost.

"It's kind of like a demon. A woman is killed by someone and her ghost summons a demon that goes to kill her murderer." Sam explained quickly, still far away in thought.

"Maybe a Keres?" Dean suggested as he rubbed his eyes.

"I don't know if these deaths are weird enough for a Keres." Sam said. "I mean a hanging, a gunshot- Keres usually do more gruesome stuff. Caught between millstones, sucked dry by leeches, eaten from the inside out by worms."

"So not a Keres."

Before I could ask, Sam glanced down and explained. "Spirit of violent or cruel death."

"Oh."

"Maybe it's just a regular demon." Sam said, shrugging.

"A demon that's killing one person every few weeks? There weren't any signs of ritual on the bodies, at least not from the report. And demons don't usually hop meatsuits that often." Dean said with a frustrated sigh.

"The ME might not have known what he was looking at. I think we should see for ourselves." Sam said.

I groaned, knowing what was coming. "We gotta go to the morgue?"

An arrogant smirk emerged on Dean's face. "Don't like cadavers, eh?"

I felt the bitchface come to rest comfortably on my features as I scoffed. "I was a medical student dude. I dissected donors for weeks on end. Put my finger through their heart valves. Split their skulls and held their brains. Skinned them and exposed muscles. _Every_ muscle. I am perfectly comfortable around the dead. I just don't like the way they smell. Preserved or not, death is not a good scent and it lingers in your nose for _days._ " I shivered at the memory of that awful, biting perfume that I wore for such a long time. Nothing I tried could completely cover it up. Not even washing my clothes in vinegar and scrubbing myself raw every day. I also remembered how bad it was just walking by the lab when I was pregnant with Kole. The memory almost had be gagging right there on Dean's bed.

Both boys wrinkled their noses in disgust. "Gross." Dean said flatly.

"I never thought about that." Sam said with a grimace. "So you… opened people?"

"Lots of people." I nodded slowly as if it should have been something they assumed from every medical student. "It gets easier after the first few. Everybody has similar structures. I can identify male or female from the shape of the pelvis, the facial bones, muscle structure, contents of the inguinal canal, etc. Comes in handy when there's, uh, not much left of the person." I stopped there, not wanting to gross them out too much. Just enough.

"Okay, Einstein, pull up. We get it." Dean said. "It's too early for that visual." His hand was resting on his stomach. Maybe it got a little too gross. I regret nothing.

"Like you haven't seen worse." I rolled my eyes.

"So we'll go to the morgue in the morning." Sam said quickly, before Dean could utter a wise crack. "They probably still have Stilts, and Carpenter should be processed by the time we get there."

"Great. So can I go back to sleep?" Dean grumbled.

"Yeah. We'll head out around nine." Sam got up and returned to our bed. I sat there on Dean's bed for another minute, trying to figure out what else this thing could be. Bobby had given me a lot of information to memorize, and I had memorized it; the sad fact was simply that I hadn't learned nearly enough to be of any assistance in this situation. I sighed deeply as I realized I would be dead weight on this case no matter how hard I tried.

Sam was already asleep again by the time I looked over at our bed. Somewhere in the back of my head, I hoped I wouldn't wake him up when I joined him. Our team needed actual, useful brainpower to solve this mystery.

"Why are you so tense?" The question was quiet, so quiet I almost missed it as I went to stand.

"What?" My gaze flashed to Dean, who was still leaning against the headboard beside me, arms crossed, staring at the tension I could feel in my shoulders.

"You look terrible. You're grumpier than usual. You still sick or is this something new?" Dean asked, so quietly that I wasn't sure if Sam could hear. He looked concerned, but I was still bitter over our earlier argument.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, adding a bitter tone to my voice.

"Li, cut the shit, okay? This isn't a pissing match. I'm worried about you and you're making it real hard to figure out what's going on. Are you still feeling that drug or is this something new that we need to be concerned about?" Dean said in a tired voice.

I looked away. _Is he actually accusing me of going all 'monster victim' again? Why should I tell him anything? He wanted to send me away. Just like that. Gone. Screw the tests, the trials, the suffering, and effort I put into this crap. Who cares about what I want? Who cares about little Li-Li anywa-_

"Li." Dean rested a hand on my shoulder, prompting me to look at him. His expression surprised me; it looked like he was pleading. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing." I snapped, turning away.

"Is it the drug?"

"No." I growled the answer, crossing my arms and refusing to look at him.

"What's got you so upset, then? You were acting weird all day yesterday. I'm not a mind reader. Help me out." Dean took his hand back when I tried to shrug it off.

 _He sounds sincere… Maybe he really is concerned about me and not just absorbed in the role of team lead. But what if I tell him what's going on and he sends me away anyway? I can't let that happen. I could try to get Cas' number out of him… Play the last day off…_ "I… I'm not sure Cas healed everything he needed to."

"He said he left the bruises and a couple cuts. You know that. We told you."

"Yeah, but… but internally. What if something inside me is broken or- or dead?" I asked quietly, timidly glancing over my shoulder to gauge his reaction. I couldn't tell him about the kid, and this was as close as I could come to asking for help for my little miracle.

He looked concerned again. "You in pain? Something hurt?"

"No." I said softly, beginning to doubt if my plan would even have a chance at working.

"Then why do you think something's wrong?" Dean asked. "If nothing hurts, you're probably fine." He winced after his last statement, which had me curious. Before I could ask about it, he spoke again. "Y'know what? Let me give you Cas' number. You can call him and ask all the questions you want; all the questions I can't answer. Where's your phone?"

I stood and quietly retrieved my cell from under my pillow, beside my silver pocket knife. I handed Dean the phone. "Thanks." I said, my voice barely audible. _How did that work like I wanted it to?_

"I do care about you, Li." He said as he clicked through several menus. "And I'm not going to send you away if I can help it. Now if things get to be touch-and-go and your life is on the line in a way we can't control, you will be leaving Orem. Understood?" He held my cellphone in one hand, out of my reach.

"But why can't I stay? You guys risk your lives all the time." I whined, annoyed at having to go through this yet again.

"You were attacked, Li. You could be the next target. We _have_ left cases before when the odds of dying or losing someone far outnumbered the odds of succeeding. This isn't just about you. Ganking one SOB with a taste for combatant morons isn't worth losing our lives over. You know that right?" Dean asked, still holding my phone away from me.

I sighed and grabbed weakly for the phone, wanting this conversation to be over. Dean hardly even had to try to hold me back. "Gimme my phone."

"This is serious. We are not risking your life any more than absolutely necessary on this job." Dean said, as if trying to convince me. As if I could be convinced.

"But you risk Sam's and yours, so why not mine? Am I not equal to you yet?" I asked, bitter once again.

Dean rolled his eyes. "For the last time, no. You can do almost everything we do, but you haven't had enough experience yet and you're more than likely to get yourself killed. Why don't you understand that?"

"Because I don't like you risking your lives any more than you like me risking mine." I said angrily.

"So you get that we try to keep you from getting killed? And that sometimes doing that involves benching you?" Dean asked. "Or are you still so stubborn that you'd charge right into the fire and get burned because you think you'd be helping?"

My face fell. His words tore a lot deeper than I thought they would. "You… Are you saying that I'm not helping when I think I am?" My voice betrayed the hurt I was feeling. Why hadn't they told me I was just dead weight? I knew I couldn't help with the knowledge base necessary to put clues together, but I thought I was helping with research and reconnaissance pretty well. Why on earth were they keeping me around if I was more likely to get them killed than save them?

"That's not- no, that's not what I'm saying. Listen. You help us a lot. You're smart like Sam and as bull-headed as me. You're doing great, but you're still just training-"

"I thought training was over."

"Let me finish. You're still training, which means you're a part of the team. Just… a part that hasn't learned the ins and outs of surviving our kinds of situations yet. Understand? You can do everything with us, up to the point where you become… for lack of a better term, a liability to the team." Dean said.

"Fine. So I'm a trainee who can't hold her own in the heat of the moment. Is that what you're saying?"

"Well, yeah. And you have self-destructive tendencies."

"Excuse me? Like what?" I demanded, a little louder than I should have. Sam shifted on the bed, but settled quickly.

"Refusing help, hiding injuries, keeping secrets… Should I keep going?" Dean asked.

"Fine, I get it, okay? Now can I have my phone? I really need to talk to Cas." I said, reaching for it again.

Dean handed it over this time. "Gonna call now or later?"

"Now."

"The number is under his name in the contact list. Don't stay outside too long." Dean said as he slid back down under his blankets. I stood and walked outside.

 _My baby better be okay. So help the angel, if he isn't…_

* * *

I called Cas three times in a row. By the third time, on the fifth ring, he answered.

"Allison." He sounded relieved. Glad. Like he hadn't expected me to call at all. _You've got another thing coming, angel, if you think this is a social thing._

"Cas I have a question and if it doesn't get answered during this call, I'm going to pray-scream at you until you call back." I said quickly before he had the chance to start a conversation.

"O-okay. What is your question?"

Even with the door closed behind me and the parking lot nearly void of cars, and totally empty of other people, I looked around before whispering into the phone. "Is my baby okay?"

"Yes."

I waited for him to elaborate, but as usual there was no further explanation from the angel. "Did you have to heal him?"

"Yes." My chest clenched tightly and my free hand flew to my stomach at the simple word. I had actually hurt my baby. The one person I was supposed to protect with my life, who had no one else to help him, no one else to rely on- and I had hurt him so bad that he had to be healed by an angel.

I almost couldn't the words out of my mouth as my eyes welled with unwanted moisture and my throat suddenly got thinner and scratchy. "What was wrong?"

Cas sighed in frustration on the other end. It kind of pissed me off. The whirlwind of emotion going on inside me was starting to give me both a headache and a stomachache. "The drug you ingested was teratogenic, causing mutations in the DNA and protein structures of the child, which are necessary for proper development. I repaired the mutations and removed the remaining drug from your womb. I also sealed it against further contamination by that particular drug, in case you are attacked again. Is that all you wished to know?"

"Why didn't you just tell me that before?" I breathed, feeling a strong sense of betrayal rise under my turning tummy.

"I didn't make a promise to tell you every goings-on with your pregnancy." He said bitterly.

I scoffed at him. "Why would you say that, Cas? I thought you were helping me with all this."

"And I thought you were going to tell the Winchesters about the pregnancy to lighten the load on both of us, but I guess _both_ of us developed inaccurate assumptions." The bite in Cas' tone was hurtful. Then again, I could see where he was coming from. I loop-holed him months ago, like he just loop-holed me yesterday. It didn't feel good.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I never meant to hurt you like this. I didn't even mean for it to be a big deal. I'm just… not ready to tell them yet. I don't expect you to understand." I said quietly, kicking at a pebble on the crumbling sidewalk.

"You are correct. I do not understand. Telling them would make the changes of pregnancy easier for you and development expedited for the child. He already feels the vibrations of their voices, Allison. They are not sounds to him yet, but the feeling is familiar and comforting to your ba- baby. And I am sure that Sam and Dean would be willing to help with anything you needed. Perhaps they could find comfort in the child as well." Cas' voice cut off, and I wasn't sure if he just paused in his speech or if the call dropped. I took the phone away from my face to check just as he started speaking again. I smooshed the phone back against my ear as quickly as I could. "I have come to find that hunters in particular value innocence and normality above most things. You could provide something they have never had."

"Is the call breaking up? Are you hearing me, Cas?" I asked when his voice stopped again. I honestly wanted to hear what he had to say, but I was sure the call was getting lost. He never stuttered, and the lengthy pauses in his responses seemed unlike Cas.

"I can hear you perfectly, Allison." Cas said.

"Huh. Maybe my end is breaking up. I… I'll call you sometime soon. Goodbye Cas." I didn't wait for his goodbye before I hung up and leaned against the cold wall next to the door.

 _You could provide something they have never had. Innocence… Normality…_

I didn't sleep much more that night.

* * *

The next day was unremarkable. Morning sickness before the guys woke up. Breakfast at the little diner just a few minutes walk down the road. The air was cold, but it was refreshing after my earlier episode. We scoured the internet and their father's journal for any new knowledge, even just a hint, but we found nothing helpful before lunch. Dean ran out and brought back food. I didn't really notice what it was. Something greasy that I consumed while pouring over an article detailing the recent assaults at the nightclub.

It was almost nine before we disembarked for the club. Sam had insisted; he wanted to see the marks from his phone and inspect them more closely. Dean was all in favor of never going there again. In his defense, we hadn't found anything very suspicious at that dump in all the hours we spent soaking in the loud music and alcohol fumes. I was just glad I didn't have to put that dress back on. Black jeans and a tight red shirt that covered my bruises. _I approve_.

Steve the bouncer eyed us with clear irritation unhidden on his ugly mug, but he let us in ahead of the line anyway.

"How much longer until he asks Ricci about us?" I asked Sam with a smile just before we passed those familiar black doors.

"Hopefully never." Sam said, already scanning the area around us with tension written all over his whole body.

"Sam, you don't have to worry so much. It'll be okay. We all agreed not to drink unless our eyes never left the glass, remember? And I'm not going to have anything here ever again, so you don't have to worry about me." I said, hoping to ease his fears if that was the reason he was wound tighter than Eddie Van Halen's guitar strings. And yes, I only know who that is because of Dean and his cassettes.

Sam just huffed one skeptical laugh and pushed through the doors.

The night was just as slow as the day. Matthias was there, dancing weirdly like he usually had in the days prior. We found the carvings and took more pictures, Dean did some weird tests that I didn't think should be done in a public place with so many eyes around, and no one stopped us or even looked at us for more than a second or two. Dean didn't seem to think that these were anything more than protection charms hand carved into the stage by some superstitious Greek a few decades ago. He thought maybe this was a theatre at one time. The layout made sense. And the protection charms would make sense too; the last thing an actor needs is a broken leg or something.

By midnight, we were all bored with watching Matthias do nothing more interesting than move from the dancefloor to the bar. It seemed like he had eyes for the bartender. I couldn't blame the guy though. She was pretty for her age and moved with a grace I didn't often see in places that distributed adult beverages.

"Sammy, go see what they're talking about." Dean said as he took a sip of the fully sealed beer he purchased earlier in the evening from the very same bartender. Come to think of it, that same woman had been here every night we'd come. Maybe she was the only bartender on staff or something.

"It's Sam."

"Sure, Sammy."

"Really, dude?"

When Sam got up and started pushing his way to the bar, I turned to Dean, who sat opposite me at the booth we nabbed after an uptight couple came in and sat, stayed a few minutes, then left with looks of disgust on their faces. "I think we should talk to the bartender, Dean. I mean, she was mentioned in almost all the assault statements, and she's been here the whole time. Maybe she saw something we missed."

"I was thinkin' about that. We'll have to find out where she lives and pay her a visit tomorrow. Can't hurt, right? I mean it's not like we're getting anywhere just scoping out this fine social establishment."

At that moment, a rather sloshed woman in a short pink dress lost her balance and stumbled backwards. She landed on our table and somehow ended up with her legs in the air, her drink unspilled in her hand, and her back flatly on the hard surface where my elbows had just been. Dazed, she looked around at us.

And of course, Dean smiled and winked. "Hey. Nice of you to drop by."

"Maddie!" The woman yelled, eyes searching the room as she tried to right herself. Dean sighed and pushed her into a sitting position. She continued to call for her friend while she made her unsteady escape from our table.

"You didn't try very hard. I'm surprised, Casanova." I chuckled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't go for drunk chicks. If I can talk to 'em before they get hammered, sure. But those kind of situations? No way. No tellin' what's going on with people like that. I do have standards, Li." There was the smallest hint of humor in his tone; it made me smile and shake my head.

A high pitched scream silenced most of the conversation going on in the room. It wasn't a 'this is so much fun' scream, or an 'I've lost my group and I'm frustrated' scream. This was a full on 'I am in mortal danger and need help _now_ ' scream.

Dean and I were shoving people out of the way, trying to get to the woman as quickly as possible. _This could be the monster; why is it after a woman?_

"Hey, you okay?" Dean asked as he found the woman who screamed. We had pushed through the crowd right behind her; she was still breathing hard. I noticed her friends trying to move her towards the exit, but the woman's eyes were glued to something on the floor. That was when I realized there was a space with a half-ring of people around it, all looking down at the space just in front of the bar. Being kind of short, I had to get up on my tip toes to see what was going on.

There, on the floor, lay Sam with Matthias sat on top of him, strangling the hunter.

The sight took my breath away. I froze. _This can't be happening._

Dean hadn't even noticed the scene unfolding in front of us as Sam kneed the man where he kept his posterity. Matthias let up on Sam's neck just enough for him to rip the fingers away and shove the man over, dumping him on the floor. Sam then took the position Matthias had been in, kneeling over his opponent's stomach, as he bloodied Matthias' nose and stunned the strange man out of his violent fit.

Dean noticed the altercation when Sam got the upper hand, and was now moving to put himself between the crowd and Matthias. Finally snapping back to my senses, I did the same with the other side of the crowd and watched worriedly as Sam stood. He coughed a few times, holding his throat as Matthias held his nose and rolled on the floor. A thin trickle of blood rolled lazily out of Sam's nose. He looked up from the doomed man on the floor and saw Dean; the look they exchanged was terrifying.

Sam was the next victim.

* * *

 **A/N: Like I said, please don't hate me! Also, I've decided to radically change the plot I had originally intended for this fic. I already wrote like twenty pages out, but it won't fit well with what I've got going now, or rather, I've come up with another plotline that will fit oh so much better. Bear with me if the next few chapters are published kinda slowly. I'll try to keep the Monday/Weekend thing up, but no promises. I do intend to finish this fic though, so don't fret. See you next time.**


	35. Tank Tops and Tattoos

**A/N: Vivi here! Trying to keep up the Monday posts. Had a midterm today. It's the third one I've taken in the three weeks since school started. Ug. Anyway, fair warning, this chapter is a little mushy, and maybe a teensy bit out of character, but I liked it so I kept it in there. Also, I'm bringing back a character from earlier in the story. Not sure how much I'll do with her, but she's spunky so she's back. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _A thin trickle of blood rolled lazily out of Sam's nose. He looked up from the doomed man on the floor and saw Dean; the look they exchanged was terrifying._

 _Sam was the next victim._

* * *

"We're leaving. Now." Dean growled, gripping Sam's arm tight and pulling him away from Matthias.

"Get out of here, you sorry excuse for a man!" The bartender yelled while pointing an accusing finger at Matthias. "Don't ever come back, prodoté!" The poor woman kept shouting at Matthias even as he rushed past us, ignoring us completely. I looked back and saw her pick up a clunky old phone from where it hung on the wall. She was speaking to the authorities within seconds; some people in the crowd were also on phones.

"Dean, she called the police." I hissed, jogging to keep up with them as we left the club.

"I know. Stay close." Dean let go of Sam as soon as we got out on the street. We walked about a block away and ducked into an unfamiliar alley before anything else was said.

"Sam, your lip-" I started to say, worrying about the slow leak of blood dribbling its way down the front of his shirt from both his nose and his lip.

"What the hell happened back there, Sam?" Dean asked, his expression and posture reminding me of a disappointed drill sergeant. His tone was harsh, but at the same time the practiced older brother was checking over his younger sibling for injuries, circling him slowly, watching how the kid moved as he spoke.

"I sat next to him, ordered a drink. He ignored me until the bartender brought the glass over and handed it to me. The creep was staring at me until I took a sip, and then he just snapped. Knocked me off of the stool and started strangling me. Didn't say a word." Sam winced as Dean probed a spot on his back. "Stop it, Dean. I'm fine."

"Your face is bleeding, Sam. And your back's gonna be bruised. Explain." Dean demanded, coming back around to face the injured man.

"The guy hit me square in the face, Dean. And there was a girl behind me with a glass in her hand. I knocked her over and she dropped it. I landed on the glass, I think. One of those ones with the thick bottom part. I don't think either of us got cut, but she screamed. She's probably fine." Sam said, shrugging as he wiped the blood from his split lip. "No big deal."

"No big deal? I don't think you understand what just happened in there. Matthias, the latest dude this- this- whatever is after, just attacked you and passed that shit on. Now you have the thing and we don't even _know what that means_ _yet_." Dean nearly shouted towards the end, pacing the alley with his hands on his head, clinging weakly to tufts of his own hair. "What about that don't you understand?"

"Dean, calm down. The victims usually take a while to go nuts, right? So we have some time to figure something out." Sam said evenly. I could tell his composure was forced. Neither of us liked when Dean yelled. "Sure, we don't know what this is or how it's transferred between people. But maybe I didn't get it. I could be fine, right?"

"What happens if you lose it and attack one of us, Sam?" Dean asked suddenly. I was half certain that he didn't hear a word Sam said after 'calm down'. "What then? This piece of shit monster could take all of us down at once and keep going-"

"I know!" Sam shouted, letting out a shaky breath as his echo bounced back up the alleyway. Dean stilled and turned to watch Sam lower his head, effectively hiding his expression from both of us. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried and failed to breathe deeply and slowly. "I'm just- I'm trying to not freak out here. Could you shut up for a minute?"

We shut up for a minute. But then I heard sirens.

"Guys, we should leave. The police are coming." I said softly. When no one moved, I bit my lip. "I don't want to die in a prison." The words were just a horrified whisper, but Sam looked up and nodded.

"Right." Dean said flatly. "We should start walking. Car's a couple blocks out yet." He pushed past us and turned out of the alley. Sam and I followed, walking close together but a good few feet behind Dean. I had trouble keeping his pace, but Sam slowed down a bit for me.

We had gone maybe two blocks when a group of men, slightly intoxicated, cat called me from around a bench at a bus stop. "Got a cup a suga, suga?" One of them yelled. I didn't turn, but Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Gary, that's the girl I was tellin' you 'bout. The one with the dress." Another voice said. I didn't want to look and see which one had spoken; we had already walked past and I didn't want to fuel their stupidity. All I wanted was to get back to the motel and figure out how to help Sam.

"From the other night? Twelfth Street?" A third man jumped in.

"Yeah."

"The one you tried to bring back for us?" The cat caller joined the conversation.

"Yeah, but I got distracted. She got away."

"That what the bruise on your chin is from?" One of them chuckled.

"You shoulda tried harder, man. She'd a made a killing off us."

"Nah, she was plastered. The good things in life are free."

"Damn shame she's with a meathead. I'd take the chance with any other dude."

"Sure you would, Gary."

I was shocked; I moved a little closer to Sam. _So that's where this other bruise and the slap mark came from. I could have been gang raped… again. But no demon this time- just humans. Just scum of the earth humans._

Sam was tense beside me; I didn't want him to get involved. Five against one would not fare well for the one, and I didn't want Sam to get hurt anymore on my account. And, not that this was necessarily a bad thing, but he might spread whatever curse thing he might have to the five of them. Not a good idea. I snaked my arm through his and held tight, stopping him from turning around even as a look of frustration and fury painted his handsome features.

"Sam, you can't fight. It's not worth it and we don't know what will happen if you do."

"I can handle myself. Ali that's the guy-" He growled, trying to turn around.

"I know, but Sam, _the case_." I hissed, trying to convey the possibility of him infecting countless others by brawling with five already aggressive drunkards.

"Screw the case-" Sam was stopped short as Dean charged past us, bumping into Sam on the narrow sidewalk. I didn't even notice him stop and turn around.

It happened fast. Turns out five against one isn't so bad when the five are drunk and the one is a trained killer. The bus stop was splashed with blood and I had a feeling that none of those men would be walking on their own into the bus that night. Dean left the pile of groaning and whimpering men with just a few spots of blood on his shirt. He looked furious.

We never did mention that incident again.

* * *

Back at the motel, Dean turned his bloodied shirt inside out and tossed it into the laundry duffel, retrieving a few articles of clothing from various bags before putting a door between us. Sam and I started looking up transferable curses while the shower sent a steady puff of steam out from under the door. It was a good long time before Dean emerged, clad only in his boxers, his amulet, and a tank top. He didn't say a word before dropping heavily onto his bed, face down in the pillow.

I felt my face melt into confusion. Sure, it was late, but it wasn't even close to the time Dean usually tapped out. The man could outlast Sam and I taking shifts if he wanted to. It wasn't like we had done anything particularly strenuous today; he should have been good for a few more hours at least.

And another thing: Dean didn't usually wear tank tops. He was a tee shirt kind of guy; I knew he was self-conscious about the handprint on his shoulder, which had been very visible as he walked by us. In the first five months I knew him, he wore a tank top maybe twice. Both after very stressful hunts, or so Sam told me when I asked how the job went. I hadn't ever seen Dean buy tank tops, and the ones he wore seemed a little small for him. And they looked just like the ones Sam always wore.

"He okay?" I mouthed to Sam after nudging him with my foot under the table.

Sam looked up and glanced over at Dean, taking in the still form that was very much awake judging by his breathing patterns. "He's stressed out."

"I can see that, but so are we. Why isn't he helping us?" I asked, frustrated. "He was so concerned just a couple minutes ago."

Sam sighed deeply and scrubbed a hand down his face, working some pink into his otherwise pale cheeks. "Sometimes Dean just needs to rest."

"He's been sleeping every night. Isn't that enough rest? Now's not exactly the time to take it easy, Sam. In case you haven't noticed, your head is on the chopping block. He can rest all he wants when you're not gonna die in a couple days."

"This is different." Sam was speaking a bit louder now. I thought maybe, if Dean was listening hard, he could hear us. Then again, I didn't know what exactly Dean was doing face down in his pillow on top of the comforter. "Dean doesn't get… tired very often. Yeah, he needs to sleep, but that fatigue is something else entirely. That's physical. The stress of our job gets to us sometimes and… Well, I go for a walk, or work out, or read a book, but Dean doesn't. I don't think he's found a good way to deal with his stress. So it just builds and builds until he can't manage it anymore." Sam took another long glance at his brother. "I'm just glad he's not breaking things this time. After Dad died, it took him weeks to repair the damage he did to the car. We've been run out of more than a few motels, too."

"Oh." That was all I could think to say. I never imagined Dean would hit bottom like that. Hit hard enough to take out that much rage and frustration on one of his most prized possessions. "How can you tell this is… rest to him? And not just fatigue?"

"He's wearing my shirt." Sam said, looking back to his laptop. "That's when you know it's bad."

"That's your tank top?" I asked, bewildered at the sudden realization. "You let him wear your clothes?"

Sam looked at me like I was asking a neurosurgeon how a scalpel worked. "Yeah. Well, I mean we're a little different in size, but growing up we didn't have many clothes. I got his hand-me-downs and when we reached the same size, we swapped clothes all the time. Dean would buy a pair of nice jeans for a job interview when Dad was gone and he had to pay the bills, and then leave them for me to wear to school while he took the pairs I'd grown out of, or ripped." Sam shrugged. "We don't do it as often now that we have reliable means."

"My sister and I used to do the same thing." I said softly, glancing at Dean over my shoulder. "We never bickered over who owned it or who had whose dress." My heart suddenly ached for my sister, her face still full of life and promise in my head. "She didn't want me to go to college because I'd have to take half the clothes."

"I forgot you had a sister." Sam said, shutting his laptop down. "Did she ever wear your clothes when she didn't feel well? Washed or not?"

His question struck me as strange until I thought back to my time in high school, when I'd been so close to my sister. "Yeah, actually. When it was her time of the month, she'd wear my blue hoodie around even if it wasn't clean. Our cycles were synced, but hers were always much heavier than mine. I- I used to take her fuzzy socks and sweat pants, and we'd sit around eating ice cream. Mint chocolate chip." The corner of my mouth turned up at the innocent memory.

Sam smiled and sat back, running one hand through his hair. "Dean and I kind of do the same thing. Have ever since I can remember. We used to sleep in the same bed if one of us didn't feel well. Er, until I turned six and Dad said I had to grow up. After that we just started swapping clothes to feel close. And we always slept in the same room, no matter what. I know he still has trouble sleeping when I'm not around; it's not as bad for me as it is for him. It was better when I was away at school, for both of us, but we fell into our old ways again over the past few years, I guess."

I couldn't look at either of them. They had something that I desperately longed to regain but knew I never could; the bond with my sister had been lost when my own hands ended her life. Hands guided by the demon Francesca, but still. The memory of light leaving her eyes, her final breath, the screams in the background… I would never lose those. Just like the love we shared, that pain would go with me to my grave. "I miss her. I know what it's like to need reassurance from someone like that. What I wouldn't give to have my sister back for one more day." I whispered, pained tears stinging my eyes. _Well there goes my concentration for the night. No way I'll be able to focus on anything but… that now._ The sooner I fell into unconsciousness and the nightmare world that followed the better. Wakeful nightmares were so much worse than the dreaming ones. "I think I'm going to bed too." Standing, I escaped to the bathroom, wiping my face clean and brushing my teeth. All the while trying to forget the conversation we'd just had.

When I came back out the room was dark and Sam was already in bed, neatly tucked to one side. I sat next to him and jumped when a rough voice broke through the night.

"No way in hell that's happening tonight."

"Dean?" I hissed, not wanting to wake him up if he was talking in his sleep. He had been laying on his stomach and waited to prop himself up on his elbows until I spoke.

"What?" Sam went up on his elbows, too. It seemed like he had already been almost asleep.

"My bed. Now, Li." Dean said evenly. His face was too dark to see, so all I could take in was the outline of him against the dim glow that leaked through the blinds from the security light outside.

I couldn't breathe for a few seconds before I got a grip on myself. _He's not a monster. There never was a monster chasing you through the streets. It was just Dean then, and he's just Dean now. He would never hurt you. Breathe…_

Then his words finally registered in my brain, flipping me from terrified to pissed off in an instant. "Excuse me?" I snapped, mortified by his condescending demand. "I am not a dog. You can't just order me around with two word commands."

Dean sighed in what could only be described as frustration. "I don't want you sleeping next to Sam if there's even a chance he could hurt you."

"I think I can handle myself." I grouched, not wanting to move away from Sam. He made me feel… safe.

"Come on, Li. You know it's not safe. It's for your own good." Dean said. I did not respond, so he continued. "Please?"

"It's okay, Ali. Really." Sam said, nodding in sullen understanding. "No hard feelings."

"He's not going to hurt me, Dean. Neither of you would hurt me." I said. "Not on purpose."

"Exactly. 'Not on purpose' would include being under the influence of some mysterious curse while he beats you to death. But even though it's not on purpose, you'd still die. Or at least get pretty roughed up before I could stop him." Dean said, irritation growing in his voice. "It's not Sam's fault, and it's not your fault. We're just taking precautions."

I glanced back at Sam, who sent me a defeated smile that didn't reach his eyes as he shrugged. "Dean's right."

"Fine." I sighed, standing stiffly and walking the few feet over to the other bed, the side nearest Sam.

"Other side, Princess." Dean said as he rolled lazily to where I had intended to go and returned to his original position. Face in pillow, prone. I grumbled all the way around the bed and dropped into the sheets, curling up like a scolded, petulant child.

At least his bed was already warm.

* * *

The next day, Sam was fine. No weird marks on his skin, no strange behavior, nothing but typical Sam. Still, we tore both the room and the car apart looking for hex bags or anything unusual. There was nothing. We called Bobby and asked him what he thought about it. He told us he'd get back to us; it sounded familiar but he couldn't put his finger on why. Dean decided he wanted to skip town.

We stayed. All three of us. Well, kinda four. After a long bickering and bitching session, Dean resigned to continuing on with the investigation, in case this wasn't a tethered location thing and was more of a follow-you kind of thing.

There was no way we were getting Dean to return to the nightclub today, even in the daylight to interview the employees. He was still pretty sore about the whole 'we aren't leaving town immediately' thing. So instead of dragging him to the interviews with the employees, we dragged him to another interview. We went to where we'd first spoken to Matthias: his home.

No one was there.

"Think he even made it back last night?" Sam asked as we stood outside his apartment door. "He wasn't exactly smashed."

"Maybe he went to the hospital. I think his nose was broken after you…" I trailed off, not needing to continue.

"Maybe. If this is anything like the other cases, though, he'll be wandering around for a few days until he finally does the deed." Sam said.

"And the other victims have turned up in random places around the city, or in that forest. I don't think we stand a chance of finding him." I said, urging my brain to kick into high gear and figure this out before something irreversible happened.

"So what, we're just gonna wait until he turns up dead? Until the status of freaking 'crazy-ass adrenaline monkey' lands on Sam? Great plan, guys. Go team." Dean nearly yelled, clearly stressed. I wasn't sure how much of a mental break he usually took during episodes like last night, but it obviously hadn't been enough this time. It was like Sam and I had woken tiny Dean up from his nap too early, which had happened a few times with similar results. Except now he could fully articulate just how pissy and aggravated he was.

"Meatballs?" A clear, curious, feminine voice broke into our conversation from one door down the hall.

All three of us turned at the same time, taking in the woman with curly blond hair. I prepared for a fight, not knowing exactly what was going on.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Dean snapped his fingers and smiled. "Tish. From the sandwich shop."

I breathed a sigh of relief and saw Sam shake his head and smile. _Not a threat._

"So it is you. You never came back like you said you would, Meatballs. Way to stand a girl up." Tish said, leaning against her door frame with her arms crossed over a low cut tank top. She didn't look terribly upset; in fact, she had a little mischievous grin on her face. The smile seemed to fit her persona well. One of her arms had a ring of triangles tattooed around it, and the other had a ring of circles. Little slash marks sat under the circles, but not the triangles. I could see parts of a few other pieces of artwork on her skin, but nothing I could readily identify.

Dean smiled and held his hands up in the 'I surrender' position. "You got me. Been kinda busy, though, so it's not on purpose."

"Busy how?" Tish asked, finally tearing her gaze from Dean to look Sam up and down. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything more.

"We're trying to find Greg. Got into an argument last night and wanted to make amends." Dean lied, smooth as glass.

"Well, I was here all night last night, _alone_." Tish looked pointedly at Dean. "Greg didn't come home. That's not unusual though. He really likes that nightclub you were asking about the other day. Practically lives there. Say, did you ever find that friend you were lookin' for?"

"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "Turns out he didn't want anything to do with us anymore. That's why he let all communications die out."

 _That's just morbid, Dean._ I shivered at the memory of that bloody tree out in the woods.

"How do you know Matthias didn't come home last night?" Sam asked, once again tearing the woman's gaze away.

"He's not exactly the lightest guy in the world. This floor is old; squeaks like crazy. And he drops his keys every other step when he's drunk. Wakes me up all the time." Tish said, tilting her head to the side as if deep in thought.

"Do you know of anywhere else he would go? Friends? Relatives? Maybe a local hang out?" I asked. Her gaze landed on me and she seemed to become even more confused.

"No, I'm just his neighbor. Hey, you guys look really familiar." Tish said suddenly.

"Uh, we met at the deli earlier this week." Sam said slowly, not seeing how the familiarity hadn't already been established.

"No, like… like we met before that. I mean you looked familiar even back then but I get so many folks in the deli that faces start to run together. I thought it was just in my head, but I'm pretty sure we've met before." Tish said, leaving the door frame to approach us.

"I'd remember those eyes if we had." Dean said with his best 'nice guy' smile.

 _Way to lay it on thick, dude._ I rolled my eyes before returning them to the woman who was sauntering down the hall.

"Not you, Ballsy. Sorry, but you don't ring that kind of bell." Tish said, moving to stand in front of Sam. She was a tall woman, a few inches up from me, but she still had to look up at Sam. "Now you, on the other hand. You ring all sorts of bells. It's like a cathedral in here." She tapped the side of her head, narrowing her eyes.

I felt jealous blood rush to my cheeks as she looked him up and down. Sam was obviously uncomfortable, shifting his weight and shoving his hands in his pockets as he was scrutinized from head to toe. The woman shook her head and frowned before looking at me again. Slowly, she strolled to stand in front of me. I noticed Sam move a little closer to us as I came under examination.

"I don't think we've met-" Sam started, only to be cut short.

"Ali!" The woman exclaimed, pointing at me with a huge smile on her face.

I stared at her, dumbfounded. We'd been careful not to use our real names at any place in town, if we had to use names at all. The only people in Orem who should know my name were the guys I was sharing a motel room with.

Dean tensed beside us, looking from Tish to me and back again several times. "You know her?" He asked me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand move back to where he kept his gun, slowly and casually.

"I- I don't-" I stammered.

"Right thigh, remember? That crazy complicated ancient script thing you wanted. Tim told me you had another one on your side, kinda like it but not in a circle." Tish said, pointing out the places she listed.

"How did you…"

"I used to have red hair. Worked at the tattoo shop in Concordia. Kansas? Any of this sounding familiar?" She asked, waiting a few moments before turning to Sam. "And your leg was broke. Never did catch your name, but I'd remember that smile anywhere."

"Tish?" I realized, recalling bits and pieces of the several hours I spent under her iron while getting the sigil that protects my baby tattooed on my leg. The same one that Cas drew so I could show her exactly what I needed.

"Yeah! She remembers me." Tish smiled, turning to Sam. "How about you, sweetheart? Look past the platinum curls, real hard…"

Sam chuckled lightly and nodded. "The shop was south of Concordia. I've gotten work down there before. But, uh, I don't think you were there then."

"I only worked there for a couple weeks." Tish shrugged. "Call it a rebellious streak. A friend of mine showed me how to work the machine and hey, I already knew my way around a sketch pad, so it worked out. I was in Alabama for a while, then Kansas, but then my Gram died and Mom needed me at the deli. Family before self, y'know?" Her smile had taken on a more morose hue. "Yours was one of the last tattoos I ever did."

"So your family lives out here?" I asked, not wanting to dig up any sad memories of broken dreams. I had enough of those and I knew how it hurt when anyone brought them up.

"Yeah, but it's just me, Mom, and Grandad now. My father ran out on us when I was little. They found him three counties over drowned in a river. Suicide, they said. But he wasn't the type." She shook her head. "Maybe he just got sick of working at the bar. Never did want to help out with the deli." Tish looked back up to Sam, then to Dean. She rolled her eyes and smiled, trying to hide the sudden wave of emotion that had her eyes glistening. "Now look at me, yakin' you up while you're lookin' for someone else."

"It's okay." Sam said with his trademark puppy dog smile. "We do have to go, but if Matthias comes back, let us know, alright?"

"Yeah, sure thing." Tish pulled one of her tattooed arms across her face, then huffed a laugh and grinned at Dean. "That mean I get your number?"

I could have sworn Dean blushed. "Usually I'd get your number, but yeah."

Tish went back into her apartment and retrieved her phone. "How's it feel to be on the bottom, Meatballs?"

Dean definitely blushed that time. "I don't know what you mean. You ready for the number or what?"

Tish giggled. "Means I get to make the first move. Keep you in suspense. So digits."

Dean read off his phone number- one of his rarely used burners- before he got this suave smile. "Why don't we go out tomorrow night? Keep the suspense to a minimum?"

I'm pretty sure Sam and I both rolled our eyes at the same time. Leave it to Dean to see the tree through the forest. Hopefully we'd have this case under control by then. If not, poor Tish would be stood up again. Good thing he gave her a burner number.

"Sounds like a pretty good plan. But I don't even know your name, mister. What ever will I cry out in our moment of passion?" Tish asked, batting her eyes.

Sam and I turn on a dime and walked away, holding back peals of laughter.

"Giovanti. Call me Gio." Dean shot her the most genuine smile I've seen in a while. It was nice to see his eyes light up again, even if he was lying to this pretty girl's face. "And dinner would be nice, too, by the way. I'm at least halfway decent."

"A perfect gentleman." Tish winked. "I'll call sometime tomorrow, _Meatballs_."

Dean just laughed and followed us down the hall.

Once outside the building, the smile still hadn't left Dean's face.

"Dude. You are way too excited about this." Sam shook his head, but he too wore a small grin.

"Don't rain on my parade, Sam. It's been _months,_ okay?" Dean play punched his brother's arm. "But that doesn't mean it's gonna happen if we don't gank whatever's killing people around here before tomorrow night. So let's double time it."

"To the club? Interview some employees?" Sam suggested. We'd have to go back to the motel and get the fed gear, but that sounded like a solid option to me.

"No." Dean said as we piled into the Impala. "We're gonna run some tests."

"What kind of tests?" Sam asked nervously.

"You'll see."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you did. Also, I got a review the other day (thanks SilverNightmares!) that got me thinking. Who do you think the father will turn out to be? Should she tell them, or run? How should she tell them, if she decides to? I'd love to hear what you're thinking!**


	36. Jinx

**A/N: Vivi here! I'm a week late. I'm sorry. Lots of tests recently. This is a short chapter. I'm sorry. But the next one will be long and has been long awaited so... enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"To the club? Interview some employees?" Sam suggested. We'd have to go back to the motel and get the fed gear, but that sounded like a solid option to me._

 _"No." Dean said as we piled into the Impala. "We're gonna run some tests."_

 _"What kind of tests?" Sam asked nervously._

 _"You'll see."_

* * *

After every test Dean, Bobby, Sam, and I could think of to try and figure out what had happened to Sam, we were no closer to getting an answer than we had been that morning. And now it was almost eight in the evening. The sun was just starting to dive towards the trees.

"So it's not a hex, a charm, a Biblical curse, or the kind of shallow possession that Li had way back when." Dean said, pacing the room as Sam and I sat on one of the beds.

"And it's not a haunting, a cursed object, ghost sickness, or a trickster." Sam said, rubbing his thumb absently over the cut from the silver knife that I'd bandaged about five hours ago. The little warded bracelet Dean found in the trunk sat around his wrist; it was supposed to protect against malignant spirits and cancel out any spells regarding attachment. It would apparently flash blue when it worked, for a few seconds at least. So far, it hadn't so much as glowed.

"It's not of Egyptian, Native American, Alaskan, or Japanese origin." I listed off, recalling the countless things we'd done under Bobby's speaker phone guidance to rule out many more than those areas of unnatural phenomenon.

"It's not the doppelganger effect, or a wraith, he ain't growin' fangs and wolfin' out when you poke silver at 'im, and he's sleeping like normal so it ain't no soul sucker… I'm at a loss, boys. Let me make a couple more calls and I'll get back to you by tomorrow." Bobby said with a sigh that we could hear over the phone. "Just stay on high alert until we know what we're dealin' with. Salt the doors, use the goofer dust, and keep that warded chain around Sam's wrist. And don't you go goofin' off tonight. That room is the safest place you got right now."

"Understood. Thanks Bobby." Dean said as he and Bobby ended the call.

"Can we get dinner now?" Sam asked, his voice as tired and worn as I felt.

"Wha- Bobby just said not to leave the room, Sam. Were you not listening?" Dean said.

"He said don't goof off. He didn't say anything about not leaving." Sam whined. We'd worked him over pretty good in the hours after we met Tish; it was no wonder his patience was wearing down.

"Why don't we just order pizza?" I suggested. The last thing I wanted to deal with at that moment was a pair of bickering Winchesters; a headache had been brewing for the past few hours and I was at the end of my rope. Also, letting Sam out of the room before Bobby got back to us made me uneasy.

The pizza came half an hour later while Dean and I were scraping the bottom of the research barrel for anything we may have missed. I hardly even noticed the pizza guy's arrival, only looking up when Sam dropped the box onto the table where I was working. Dean had the box open and a good third of it gone before his laptop shut down on his bed.

"Hawaiian pizza is gross, dude." Dean said, taking a huge bite of the pineapple and ham covered slice.

Sam snorted, watching his brother as he ate. "Sure it is. And if you had been the one to call, you could've gotten something else. But you told me to call. So I got what I wanted."

"Who puts pineapple on pizza?" Dean muttered before taking another bite.

"Apparently the Canadians." Sam said.

"What?" I asked, pausing with my own slice held just in front of my mouth.

"It was invented by a Canadian in the 60's." Sam shrugged. "I don't know why he called it Hawaiian."

"Hey, what do you get when you cross a hula hoop and a boxer?" Dean asked with the worst shit-eating grin I've seen in a long time smeared on his face.

Sam sighed, probably knowing what was coming. "I don't know, Dean."

"Hawaiian punch!"

I am not ashamed to say I laughed so hard that I launched a chunk of pineapple across the room. Okay, well, maybe a little ashamed. But it made both of the guys laugh, so it was worth it. Just a moment of blissful levity to save us from drowning in the impending doom we faced if no one could figure out what was happening to Sam.

 _Speaking of figuring out…_ Dean phone went off and the man practically threw his pizza onto the comforter beside him trying to get at his pocket.

"Bobby?" Dean answered, putting the phone on speaker.

"Get outside now." Bobby snapped.

"Bobby, what's going on-" Sam started to ask, putting his own plate down on the table where he and I sat.

"I said now, ya idjits!"

We hustled out the door and stood, confused, around the car. "Tell us what's goin' on." Dean demanded. "Why are we outside right now?"

"Everyone's outside? All three of ya?"

"Yeah." Sam said, crossing his arms. It was obvious by the look on his face that he was not at all pleased about being ousted into the chilly night air.

"Good. Stay outside. It's an erebus jinx." Bobby said, all the urgency and gruff temper gone from his tone.

"What's an erebus jinx?" I asked, raking my memory for the term. Nothing came to mind. "I've never heard of that before."

"'s because it's rare. Erebus was the Greek god of darkness. Well, they thought he _was_ darkness. Er darkness was him, somethin' like that. Anyhow, a while back some nutso sorceress named Medea cooked up a jinx that mimicked everything about 'im and set it loose on the world. Most of those suckers went down fast, but a few took on lives of their own, apparently. Buddy 'a mine read about 'em in some sheepskin tome years ago, says they hide in places where 'shadows never perish'. Dark places. Like caves, ol' temples-"

"Nightclubs." I realized quickly, speaking before I could stop the word from coming out.

"Exactly. If the thing gets caught in the light, it nulls out."

"So what do we do to get rid of it?" Dean asked impatiently, tapping on the hood of the car and looking Sam up and down absently.

"Well, Erebus had a lady, Nyx. She was night. Medea made the jinx to mimic the ol' son of The Void in every way, so if you stay out all night under the stars all night long, sun down to sun up, the jinx is supposed to dissipate into the night, join it like Erebus joined Nyx, and leave the host before it putters out in the light. If you don't stay out _all night_ at least once, the thing'll fester in ya and start draggin' ya to the darkness." Bobby said, sighing heavily. "Darkness, in most cases that I could find, means suicide or death and then just… nothin'. Not heaven or hell. Heaven, Aether, was Erebus' kid and Hell, Tartarus, was 'is brother. So when Erebus himself gets ya, it's just nothing. If the jinx isn't removed… your soul just disappears. Forever."

Sam swallowed audibly.

"So- so all we have to do is stay outside all night?" Dean asked, hope alight in his voice.

"Has the sun set yet?" Bobby asked. "Cuz if it has, you'll have to wait until tomorrow. Kid should have a couple days before the jinx is strong enough to do anything."

"No, I can still see the sun. It's still up." I smiled, squinting in the direction of the orange ball lighting up the quickly reddening sky.

"Good. Couple more things before you settle in. Don't sleep. Hypnos, sleep, was Erebus' step kid. Don't fight; Eris, er strife, was Hypnos' sibling. And don't get hurt. You guessed it. Oizys was distress and another of the big guy's step kids. You have to let the jinx focus solely on the night for it to leave; don't bring up the step kids and distract it. It'll just hunker down and get stronger. Got that?"

"Yes, sir." Sam said, running a hand through his hair. "Doesn't sound too bad. So if the jinx was in the nightclub, is it in me now? Or is it still there?"

"Still there. It spreads, multiplies. Like a disease." Bobby sneered.

"So how do we get rid of it for good?" I asked. "How do we stop it from hurting more people?"

"You have to get rid of the darkness in that club."

"You mean we have to light the whole place up?" Dean asked, obviously not liking what he was hearing. "Literally?"

"That's the only way to get rid of the source."

Dean wiped one hand down his face and sighed heavily, revealing how tired he was. "Thanks, Bobby. We'll deal with that tomorrow."

"Now, only Sam has to stay awake. I don't care what you other two do, but Sam has to keep his eyes mostly open and his head directly under the sky all night long. Fall asleep and the jinx just crams itself back in ya. Hypnos, remember." Bobby warned.

"We'll make sure it works out, Bobby." I said quietly. "Thanks for all your help."

"That's what I'm here for. Call me in the mornin'."

"Will do." Dean said, his eyes already looking far away at nothing at all.

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam said, nodding at Dean so he would hang up.

"Gonna be chilly tonight." Dean said, pocketing his phone. After a moment, he moved towards the room and muttered under his breath. "I'll get some blankets."

The rest of our evening and well into the morning was spent laying in a blanketed heap on the hood of the Impala, the three of us listening absently to Sam's little iPod playing everything from classic rock to country. With the volume low, we hoped to avoid any confrontation with the other motel guests, most of whom were tucked away in bed and not on or in their cars outside with us. We'd also agreed not to talk unless Sam was starting to fall asleep; that way we couldn't argue even a little. Every once in a while Dean would lick his finger and stick it in Sam's ear, prompting a flinch and a string of hushed profanities that had me laughing. I was just about to nod off when the first deep orange of sunrise began spreading across the sky to our right.

"Finally." Sam yawned, scratching his head.

"'s not over yet, Sasquatch. Sun's gotta be all the way up before you can conk out." Dean mumbled, his eyes bloodshot and blinking lazily. The night had been harder on him, somehow, than it had on me or Sam.

"I'm not bowing out yet, I'm just saying that it's about time that thing decided to show up." Sam shifted, prompting me to adjust the position of my head; in my exhaustion last night, I had splayed myself over both their legs, seeking warmth when the wind started to blow. It was actually kind of comfortable. For me, at least.

"Can we sleep when this is over?" I asked, my whole face feeling heavy with the need to recharge. "I'm pooped."

"I haven't heard anyone say that in years." Dean chuckled, the hearty sound making his legs move under mine. "But yeah, we can sleep after we call Bobby."

The next hour finally saw the entirety of the sun well above the tree line, officially welcoming in a whole new day. Dean called Bobby, who gave us the go ahead to go back inside.

"Should've worked. Not really a way to tell, unless you saw that bracelet of his light up when it left." Bobby said.

"What?" Dean snapped. "It was under the blankets the whole time, Bobby. I didn't know we were supposed to be watching it." He sounded as frustrated as I felt.

 _The one way to make sure Sam would be okay, and he forgot to mention it._ I was practically growling.

"Didn't occur to me until 'bout an hour ago." Bobby said with a shrug in his tone. "Not much use now. Go get some rest. I'll see if anybody knows a way to test if it's gone."

"Talk to you soon." Dean hung up and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he fell back on the windshield. "This better have worked."

"Took the words right outta my mouth." Sam muttered.

It took some prompting from both of them before I relinquished my warm spot and shuffled back into the room, falling face first onto Sam's bed. The three of us slept for at least five hours. It didn't feel like enough.

I woke up to Dean's annoying ringtone and a muted groan from the next bed. Bobby had a new slew of tests for Sam.

None of them proved effective in convincing us that Sam was cured. None of them were effective _at all._

"Okay, stop." Sam snapped after the sixth test, which involved shining a bright light into his eye to see if the retina still reflected like it should. He batted the flashlight out of Dean's hand and it landed with a soft thud on the bed. "This is stupid."

"We gotta be sure, Sam." Dean said through clenched teeth, barely containing his own frustration.

"We can be sure later." Sam got up from the bed and started to put his shoes on.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Going to get lunch. I'm starving."

My stomach growled, earning a tense glare from the tired eyes of the older Winchester. "I, uh, I'm hungry too. In case you couldn't already tell." I smiled sheepishly, knowing how exhausted Dean was already. I didn't want to push him over the edge and into a bar.

"Relax, Dean. I'm just going up the street to get some burgers. I'll be back in like twenty minutes." Sam opened the motel door, but turned before he left. "And if I'm not, just call me."

Dean stared his brother down until Sam rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.

"Why don't we get some more sleep, Dean? I'm still dragging." I said, hoping that sleep would help his mood.

"No."

That was all he said until Sam returned. The burger-bearer came back to find the two of us leafing through internet pages and police reports for any more tests or any additional clues. That last test with the light had been the last one that Bobby gave us. We were on our own now, at least until he called again.

Bobby didn't call again that night.

Dean was reading the local paper on the web and shocked us all with the news that Matthias had been found- alive. The reporter said he attempted suicide- it didn't say how- and that a park ranger found him and called the squad. He was in critical care at the local hospital.

Needless to say, dress clothes were donned, fake IDs were tucked away in pockets, and three 'insurance agents' arrived at the hospital.

"We really only need a few minutes with him to write up our report. It won't take long at all." Dean said, flashing his best 'I'm totally a professional' look.

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Matthias is in no condition for visitors of any kind. We aren't even allowing family in at this point. Now, I can answer a few questions for you, provided you keep your report confidential and submit the necessary paperwork to the hospital afterward. Just make it quick, because I have three residents and two interns working under me tonight and I don't want to write my own report because a patient died while I was talking to insurance agents." The doctor, Dr. Lua from the badge he wore, spoke quickly and seemed to have no room for any pleasantries or extraneous talk.

Sam sighed deeply, frustrated. This was the third person we'd talked to in our climb of the authority ladder to try and get at Matthias. Next would be the building manager, and she was off on vacation for a week, according to the nurse we spoke to after the clueless volunteer at the front desk pointed us to the ICU. "We just have a few questions on his condition."

Doc answered the questions very vaguely which was extremely frustrating to me. I didn't know if Sam and Dean were getting anything out of the conversation, but I was an ex-med student, damn it, and I wanted to know _exactly_ what had happened to Matthias in the more precise medical terms I navigated for six years of my life. All I was getting out of the doctor was that our guy had a head injury, was found in the same forest where Stilts was found, and hadn't said a word since they brought him in.

I yelled nothing in particular into my pillow when we got back to the motel. It wasn't much of a release, but it helped a little.

"What the hell?" Sam gasped at the sound. A hand landed on my back when I stopped and I just groaned. "You okay?"

"Frus-rated." I mumbled into the fluff.

"Welcome to the club."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry, I know it's short. The next chapter is longer. You'll really like it. Promise! Leave me some words; I love reading your words!**


	37. Sam's Really Pretty Sure

**A/N: Vivi here! Sorry this was is getting posted so late in the day. But it's still Monday, right? Right? So I'm actually on time this week! Even with the new fic I'm writing (John's Boys), I still managed to post this on time. Feelin' pretty achieved after such a terrible day today. Anyway, I'm like 90% sure that this chapter has been long awaited by many readers. It's a little graphic, definitely not PG, but who hasn't read a sex scene (purposefully or not) already? Not my first attempt at writing one, but it's probably still clunky. Sorry. Hope you enjoy the rest of it. And don't hate me for the ending...**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _I yelled nothing in particular into my pillow when we got back to the motel. It wasn't much of a release, but it helped a little._

 _"What the hell?" Sam gasped at the sound. A hand landed on my back when I stopped and I just groaned. "You okay?"_

 _"Frus-rated." I mumbled into the fluff._

 _"Welcome to the club."_

* * *

"Alright, I gotta get outta here before I start climbing walls." Dean said, setting his laptop aside on the bed before getting up. We still had no word from Bobby and were no closer to confirming Sam's cure than we had been earlier that day. A few hours ago the guys got into a heated discussion about leaving the next day if nothing came up by tomorrow morning. Dean was all for it. Sam was adamantly against it, even volunteering to stay back and finish the job alone. I'd never seen one of them unwilling to compromise in the slightest; Sam especially. Usually one could be swayed at least a little by the other, but Sam was not going to leave the town until the jinx was eliminated. And Dean wouldn't leave without Sam, knowing that he may still be afflicted.

The bickering ended with a tense silence that lasted _hours._ At least until Dean spoke up.

"Dean, it's ten o'clock at night. Where are you gonna go?" Sam said, letting the bitchface settle into its rightful place. "You're not going to a bar, are you?"

"Nah, got a hot date, remember?" Dean put on his jacket and boots, purposefully not looking at Sam. "Li, call me if things start getting weird. You're in my bed tonight." Sam started to protest but Dean held up a finger and stopped him short. "I know we've got a few days, and you're probably fine, but better safe than sorry. That's just the way it is, Sam. If we're staying, she's sleeping with me until we're sure you're not gonna go nuts."

The younger Winchester huffed and returned to his laptop looking less than pleased.

"Don't do anything stupid." I said as I looked over an article from the local newspaper. It was the same one I'd already read in three other newspapers, I noticed. This was getting excessively exasperating. The evidence in this case was so limited; how on earth could anyone narrow down a definite cause with _this_ terrible reporting?

"Yeah, I know. And no more than three beers, right?" Dean sounded like was actually going to follow our alcohol limiting suggestion for once. Maybe we'd finally pounded the importance of self-control into his thick skull. "Y'know, we could make this a double date. I could keep an eye on you two, keep you out of trouble." Dean smirked when Sam rolled his eyes. Try as we might, keeping our blooming relationship off Dean's radar seemed like a fools errand.

"Dean, I'm beat." I said, shaking my head in defeated. "We've had a long day. Are you sure you want to go out with that girl?"

"I'm pretty sure." Dean said with a halfhearted shrug and a smirk.

"Pretty sure?" Sam asked, looking up in disbelief.

"Really pretty sure."

"That's new." Sam returned to his computer.

"Dean, I know it's been a rough day, but do you really need to go out? Why not just get some sleep?"

"Got some sleep last night."

"Personally, I like sleep every night, like eight hours of it, but that's just me."

"Yeah, well, suit yourself. Don't wait up, you crazy kids. And get some rest tonight." Dean said as he grabbed the keys from the table and shut the door behind him. I heard the Impala roar to life and the headlights flooded the room before Dean pulled away into the night.

* * *

Sam and I returned to our research for the next hour or so. It irked me that Dean left us at such a bad time, but then again, Sam and I made a pretty efficient research team. Minimal bickering. No unnecessary conversation or humor. But when my eyelids started to droop, we weren't any closer to confirming that our cure had worked than when we stumbled back to the room at dawn. By the time I finally shut the lid of the laptop, I'd been awake for way longer than I should have been and I was ready for some rest.

"Sorry, but I've gotta head to bed, Sam." I said, rubbing my eyes. Today had been too long. My dress shirt was scratchy and this skirt kept riding up, making my tender belly a little sore. A good night's rest would hopefully put me back on the right track; my mood had tanked hours ago.

"Already?"

"Unless you have something else in mind, I'm an unstoppable force. That bed is calling my name." I resisted the urge to rub at my sore waist and headed for the bathroom instead.

"Well, uh, y'know… uh… Dean won't be back until around two, probably. I stopped at the store earlier and got some… things." Sam said, nervously running his hand through his hair. When his eyes met mine, they were clouded, almost guilty looking. He looked away and rubbed at his neck.

He'd piqued my interest, even if he was acting weird. "What kind of things?" I asked innocently.

He turned slowly and dug through his duffel, producing a familiar shiny, silver square.

I bit my lip as a surge of anticipation hit me. _Hard._ He'd actually somehow avoided getting caught by Dean as he bought condoms. "Finally." I said, grinning hugely at him. He rolled his eyes and smiled back with that familiar light returning to his face.

In three steps, I closed the distance between us and twinned my fingers behind Sam's neck, pulling him down to kiss me. He tucked the condom into his back pocket and gripped my thighs, pulling me up against him as he straightened. I could already feel my body responding to him being so close; the heat, the friction, the familiar scent of him was getting to me, working me up. With Sam, it didn't take much. We parted only for a few seconds; just enough time for Sam to switch the lights off, allowing the room to be bathed in soft moonlight.

The hunter carried me to the bed and we crashed onto it, making the springs groan loudly. I didn't care; I was under him and my legs parted to welcome him closer. He fit between them like a puzzle piece, his firm body pressing against my soft curves, the slight bulge of my stomach going totally unnoticed by the both of us.

Gentle kisses quickly gave way as our blood got hotter. Breaths became quicker, more desperate, and our lips parted only to catch the oxygen our lungs longed for. The fingers of one of his hands tangled in my hair as the other traced my side under my clothes.

A surge of hormones made my lips and… other areas tingle, reminding me of how long I'd waited for this. I slowly took my hands from his neck and pushed him upright; he sat on his heels, looking confused and rejected. I sat up, bit my lip, and started quickly unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it over his head before I finished, a huge grin on his face. His fingers reached under the waistline of my skirt and untucked my shirt before pulling it over my head; I whined softly to myself as I willed him to go just a little lower under the fabric. My skin tingled and goosebumps leapt wherever his fingers brushed.

Before long, we were horizontal once more, dressed only in our underclothes. I couldn't keep away from his lips, my hands couldn't stop tracing his hard won musculature. Something strong pulsed in my chest, longing to be closer still. It seemed like Sam felt the same, because he gripped the back of my neck and used his free hand to trace me as I traced him. Unconsciously, I felt my hips buck into him, meeting a certain something and causing my stomach to tense as a long, frustrated moan escaped my lips. It felt like there was no way we could move fast enough for my hormones to be satisfied.

My hands rushed to my back, where I fumbled with my bra until the strap came undone. I heard it hit the floor and watched a deep red pool at either end of Sam's rather shocked expression.

Seconds later, he took full advantage of his newfound freedom, exploring every inch of me with his free hand. It was devious torture; the girls were hypersensitive and any tiny caress set a wave of pure pleasure pulsing down my spine. The same went for my stomach; he kissed it up and down, making me moan and wish he'd go lower. In all honesty, I was so tightly wound that if he hadn't stopped touching when he did and instead moved to tuck his hand behind my back and pull me closer, I may have gone before he even had a chance.

For a few moments, I let myself believe that he knew about the baby. That he was kissing my belly because he was excited about the life growing there. It gave me a rush of joy that I hadn't felt in a long time; maybe he wanted to be a father? Maybe he really would be excited… I wanted so badly to tell him in that moment, but I knew I couldn't. I knew my wonderings were just that: speculation. He wouldn't be excited about a kid who wasn't his. He probably wouldn't want to talk to me again, much less touch me like this. _Enjoy it while it lasts. Don't think._ Luckily, Sam pulled my attention away from the unpleasant reality of the situation he didn't know about by reminding me of the situation we were in under the covers.

After a few minutes of breathless kisses, curious caresses, and uncontrollable sounds of sheer _need_ from both parties, I felt Sam let my neck go. He pulled away from me and I felt two hands slide into the sides of my panties. The action gave me shivers and I bit my lip, wishing for him to both hurry up and take his time. Too soon, I heard the lacy little thing hit the carpet.

I sat up before he could return to me and did the same thing he'd done. The boxers did little to hide his anticipation anyway. At this moment, they were just in the way.

Twinning my hands behind his neck, I pulled him closer. "Suit up, Winchester." I purred into his ear. I laid back as he riffled through his clothes and put on the condom. He climbed back into bed and I pulled him close once again, matching my flushed skin to his.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" He asked softly, his voice full of hope.

"More than anything." I leaned in and whispered back, nibbling at his earlobe. He answered by tracing one hand down my side, then over my thigh. I let my legs fall to the sides and he took the hint.

"If anything hurts…"

"You'll know. But it has been a while, so you might want to…" I closed my eyes and grasped his hand, bringing it closer.

No one could say that Sam wasn't quick on the uptake.

Slowly, gently, one digit slid in to test the waters, sending shockwaves of desire through my overexcited skin and eliciting a surprised gasp that sent that adorable smile alight once again. Another joined it after a few seconds, encouraging my long unused muscles to relax and open up for him. The sensation was… awakening. A long sigh of pure bliss escaped my lips as he probed around and found one super sensitive spot, torturing it as he saw me gasp yet again and bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut. A third finger made its way in and I felt my body react; the muscles finally released, blood began pumping even faster, and there was no way we'd need any extra help tonight.

"Come on, Sam." I said, my voice reflecting how long I'd waited for this moment. He smiled and removed his hand, making me shiver and pout as my eyes opened in protest. His forearms settled under my shoulders, his hands tangled in my hair, and we kissed for a while longer before I felt something thick and warm slide easily into place, surprising me a little. My hips bucked again, encouraging him to dive deeper. He wasted no time.

"Sam, holy-." I gasped as a new kind of pleasure hit me like a tidal wave. I moaned loudly and slid my eyes closed, clutching his back, digging my fingers in. We moved together, his heat mixing with mine, his scent filling my nose and flooding my body with more and more of the need to have _him_. He was everything I expected and so much more.

As waves of pleasure and euphoria continued to wash over me, I felt muscles all over my body tense up. My fingers dug into Sam's back as my arms tightened, my knees pressed into his thighs, my hips lifted and drove him deeper still. He picked up speed, leaving me panting for breath.

I felt my toes curl as I clamped down on him, enhancing the effect he was having on me. We kept this up for what seemed like hours, rolling over and over, laughing at the sounds that slipped out, going faster then slower, drawing the moment out; well, his moment. I had several; that was something I'd never experienced before. He held me close as we kissed and mingled. We rolled, still joined, to push my back into the bed when I felt I might burst from all the happy-hormones coursing through me. Something felt different after we settled in the folds of the comforter, landing after a particularly bumpy move. Rougher, but so… wonderful that I couldn't help but hold him closer. Boy was I glad I clipped my fingernails the other day- at least Sam's back wouldn't be bloodied… probably.

Finally, I felt him drive one more time as I bucked my hips into his groin; his body tensed, careful not to hurt me, and he released slowly, his body shaking slightly with each beat of his heart. He let out a groan that could only be described as- and I always hate when people use this word, but it fit the sound so perfectly- orgasmic. My hands clutched at his back and his at my shoulders. I had to catch my breath; it was so much more intense than I'd anticipated. And I wasn't the only one breathing hard after the fact.

My legs fell to the sides, releasing him. My arms fell away and hit the bed with two twin thumps. I felt like jelly, but an unstoppable smile played on my lips as Sam sighed happily and we kissed over and over. We just laid like that for a while, he on top of me, supporting most of his weight with ease as we smiled and kissed some more. It seemed too soon when he slowly slipped out and got up. He ran his fingers through his hair and turned, beaming with happiness. I watched him in all his glory as he got a glass of water and placed it on the bed stand. He flopped down next to me and I curled into his side, resting my head on his shoulder and laying a hand on his firm stomach. He brought the sheets over us both, and pulled me close before kissing my temple and letting his lips rest there. We laid in silence, just breathing each other in, for a long time. The heat in my body slowly dissipated, my muscles continued to relax, and things stopped their frantic pulsations.

"That was amazing." I whispered once his heart and mine had stopped pounding with as much fury as they had been minutes ago.

"I'll say. It's been a while. And you were… different. Better." Sam said sleepily.

"Different how? From what?" I asked, drawing little circles around his navel with one of my fingers.

"From… uh, others I've been with. Sorry for bringing up exes. Again." Sam frowned.

"Different how?" I repeated, not at all bothered by his assumed slip up. We both had exes. It was just a fact of life.

"You were… shallower. Harder stop at the end. It was, uh, really nice, actually." Sam blushed, moving so that he rested his chin on my head and I couldn't see his face.

 _Well shit._ I thought, glad that Sam couldn't see my face as I dropped my head back to his chest. _I hope he doesn't notice_ how _shallow. I didn't think the baby would be pushing down that much yet. Maybe we shouldn't do this again. He might ask about it if he notices me getting shallower as time goes on… And the bulging tummy will do nothing for my case…_

"Ali? You asleep?" Sam whispered so softly that I almost didn't hear him through my internal monologue.

"No, I'm just thinking." I replied.

I felt Sam tense a little beside me. "Was it- I mean, was it okay for you?" Sam asked quickly, his voice betraying his nervous energy. "Because I thought you were enjoying it. Y'know, you moved like it felt-"

"Amazing." I repeated my statement from earlier, emphasizing each syllable. "It was amazing. You, Sam Winchester, have nothing to worry about."

I felt the tension release in his chest and he sighed. "So… we should do this again, right? Sometime soon?" The hope in his voice, and the feeling still lingering in my body, was enough to knock down any inkling of ending our physical relationship. As much as it made sense to stop before he noticed my body changing, I knew there was no easy way to rein in my raging hormones while preserving the closeness I so desperately craved with Sam.

"Yeah. Sometime _very_ soon." I purred. _Maybe if we go at it often enough, he won't notice the changes. Like boiling a frog, right?_

Sam responded by flashing a contented smile and running a hand down my side, letting it stay on my bare hip, where my newest tattoo sat as an cautious reminder of the secret I kept. _Maybe if I can get him to forget to use a condom, I can claim the baby is his. Dean would probably believe it too…_

 _Speaking of Dean._ "Sam, what time is it?" I asked quickly. Dean would be back around two, if Sam's earlier prediction was correct.

Sam sat up quickly, seeming to share in my panicked urgency, and looked at the ancient alarm clock on the nightstand. "Two fifteen." He said quietly, panicky.

Suddenly, as if it heard us, a bright light and rumbling sound filled the room from outside; I laid back and Sam did the same to try and hide the fact that we were still awake from the blinding headlights. The light and sound faded quickly. "Dean's back." I gasped. Sam and I jumped out of bed. I was wobbly on my legs, but helped in frantically hiding the evidence. I threw on a sleep shirt and shorts, skipping the undies to buy me a few seconds; Sam donned a shirt and boxers. We finished the fastest clean up I'd ever performed, throwing clothes into duffels or kicking them under beds, and jumped back into bed, Sam to his and I to the one closest to the door as we heard Dean's key enter the lock. The door opened a second later and I slammed my eyes shut, trying to relax my breathing and make it look like I was sleeping peacefully.

Of course, that's when my bladder decided to scream out for mercy. It had the worst timing lately. _These hormones, I swear…_

"Gotta get an air fresh'ner. Smells like sex in 'ere." Dean said as he went to the bathroom. The sound of the toilet flushing was too much for me; I groaned loudly as Dean left the tiny bathroom and sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes.

"Dean, when'd you get back?" I asked softly, yawning. It wasn't even a fake yawn; I was exhausted. Too much 'research', I suppose. _Brings a whole new meaning to 'pulling all-nighters'._

"Just a minute ago. Does it smell funny in here to you?" He asked quietly as he sat on his bed.

"Not really. I mean, typical grungy motel room. Why? What's it smell like to you?" I asked, standing and heading for the bathroom. The unpleasant sensation of fluid moving around _in there_ had me hiding a grossed out cringe. That was my least favorite part of doing the deed. Something about it seemed wrong though…

"Sex. Like somebody went down hard in here." Dean grumbled.

"Really, Dean? We sleep in here." I said quietly from behind the bathroom door. _Oh sweet, sweet relief._ That same nasty, goopy sensation hit again as I finished voiding one organ and started leaking awkwardly from another. _Wait a minute… That's not supposed to happen, not with a…_

"It wasn't me, Li. You'd know if it was. I'm not exactly discreet, remember? Haven't had a chance to do that in a while anyway." Dean muttered from beyond the door.

Something felt off about… down there. Kinda itchy, with a building pain behind it. _Well, the tattoo's not going, so it can't be the baby right? But… what if it doesn't count premature labor? I- I don't feel anything like that, but something is going on here, something really not normal._ I'd never felt this feeling before. It hurt, or burned maybe, like a urinary tract infection. But there was no way I'd have a urinary tract infection this soon after sex. The chances of getting an infection using a condom were relatively low to begin with, lowered too by using the bathroom right after the deed was done. Then again, this didn't feel like that kind of infection. This stimulation was definitely from the other tube.

"…the hell?" I mouthed and cringed as the pain seemed to move further down. Before I knew it though, the pain was gone. Puzzled, I sat for a few seconds trying to figure out what had just happened. When none of my guesses seemed to fit the symptoms, I finished up and stood, not wanting to draw attention by taking forever in the bathroom while Dean was still awake out there. I didn't know what the pain was, but it was gone and my tattoo was perfectly calm, so I just shrugged it off.

Until I looked down.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't hate me! Promise I'll post on time next week (if I get some reviews)... Don't forget to tell me what you think! Maybe I'll even post another chapter this week. Only if you guys really want it though... And don't forget to check out my newest fic called John's Boys. It's a totally different AU, so sorry, but no Allison in that one. I can't wait to see how that fic stacks up to this one. Anyway, can't wait to hear from you. See ya next week (or sooner)!**


	38. Sammy's Not So Sure

**A/N: Vivi here! Long chapter. Might be a cliffhanger... no promises. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"…the hell?" I mouthed and cringed as the pain seemed to move further down. Before I knew it though, the pain was gone. Puzzled, I sat for a few seconds trying to figure out what had just happened. When none of my guesses seemed to fit the symptoms, I finished up and stood, not wanting to draw attention by taking forever in the bathroom while Dean was still awake out there. I didn't know what the pain was, but it was gone and my tattoo was perfectly calm, so I just shrugged it off._

 _Until I looked down._

* * *

The condom was in the bowl, half rolled up, totally white inside and out. My first thought was 'oh no, I could get pregnant', but obviously that didn't last long. I rolled my eyes at myself, scolding the knee jerk reaction. _Sorry, the position has been filled. Literally._

My second realization was 'oh shit, Sam's gonna figure out eventually that he didn't take it off, and he's going to wonder where it went'. I felt all the blood in my face rush to my feet. I could take it out of the bowl and put it in the bed- no no no too gross. I could get another one from his bag, but then he would wonder how he lost another one. There was no good way for me to put evidence back in a reasonable place for Sam to stumble across later, no matter how hard I thought about it. So… how… how was I supposed to handle _those_ questions? He would definitely have a lot. What if he panicked and-

Dean found out. _Bunker nerd forevermore._ I shook my head, bit back the panic rising in my chest, flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and schooled my features into a sleepy but casual orientation before leaving the safety of the bathroom. _Maybe Sam won't even realize what happened._

"Well I guess you can choose between winter evergreen or fresh lemon, because I don't smell whatever you..." I trailed off as I slid back into bed. A gentle smile crept onto my lips. Dean had fallen asleep fully clothed, splayed back on the bed, feet still on the floor. I tiptoed across the room and wrestled his boots off, swinging his legs onto the mattress before covering him with the side of the bedding he wasn't laying on. He'd need the best rest he could get; I had a feeling the hangover would be much kinder if he slept well.

As I rested my head on my pillow in the pitch black room, my mind began to wander to a place I had secretly hoped to forget.

I felt so safe with them. _I want to stay. Please, please just let me stay with them._ My heart weighed heavy as I tried to reason with myself. I _had_ to leave so they could keep fighting the killers and darkness of the world without having to worry about a sweet little giggling bundle of joy being taken by monsters and sacrificed so a murderous demon could seal itself in my body for hundreds of years. How could they get anything done if they were constantly protecting us?

 _It's better this way. I should leave before Sam figures out about the condom… That could be the conversation when I cave and spill my guts. They would either confine me to the bunker or send me away, and I don't want to live with Bobby. I don't want to live with rare visits from them while I hide away in some junky apartment or musty bunker trying to steer clear of the law while also caring for myself and, eventually, a newborn. By myself. And I definitely don't want to be hunted when I run. If they think I'm expecting a Winchester, they'll never let me go. A clean break will be easier. A quick, jarring, clean break._ My thoughts became eerily calm for a few moments before I came to a sobering conclusion that nearly had my heart broken in two. _Tomorrow morning then. Before they get up. No goodbyes…_

 _The clean break…_

With all the anxiety about the situation I'd just gotten myself into, the soft snores of my boys were all the lullaby I needed to wash the worry and fear from my head, at least for a little while. Those sounds… I would miss the peace they carried, the promise of respite from the pain of the world that they represented. Not that I deserved to find comfort in them, but still. I fell asleep with silent tears soaking my pillow.

* * *

"Ali, wake up."

My eyes opened and I willed the blurry room to focus. There was urgency in that voice. _Did something get into the room? Who's hurt?_

"We're going to get breakfast, come on."

I groaned in annoyance and tiny bit of relief. _So much for a clean break._ I glanced at the clock from beneath the warm, welcoming covers. _Six in the morning? Why are you up so early, dude? You're ruining my plans to leave you for your own good._

Grumbling soft profanities to myself, I sat up in bed and stretched, yawning even though I tried to contain it. Dean was still asleep, face now buried in his pillow. Sam was up and going through a duffel bag with forced calm. I could tell by the position of his shoulders. _Not a good sign._

"Aren't you gonna wake Dean up?" I asked as I trudged to my bag to grab some clothes. A shirt, jeans, a hoodie. The bathroom was my next stop.

"No. We'll bring him something. Let him sleep." Sam said through the door. I didn't expect the edge in his voice; it caught me off guard. Not angry, or fearful, or bitter. He was anxious about something, or very nervous at least. But what? _Maybe he finally put the clues together. Maybe he knows about you, little one. Or he remembered the condom. Either way, we need to get out of here fast. But how can I get away now, while he's awake? I need at least a few hours head start if I'm going to pull this off. And if I try to run and they catch me, there goes my freedom. They'll want to know why I ran and I'm half certain they'd lock me away even if I didn't tell them about the kid. Maybe I can make up an excuse to get away for a few hours and just… not come back._

"I could go get something if you want a few more winks." I said as I returned from the bathroom. _Take the bait, take the bait…_

"I think we should go together." Sam's tone left no room for argument. So much for that attempt. We were out the door and in the car before I could come up with another lie to get away.

"Why are we getting food so early?" I grumbled as we pulled out onto the road. "And why are we taking the car? There's a breakfast place like a block away that opens at six."

"I… I need to talk to you." Sam said with a nervous glance at me.

 _Shit._ "I'm listening."

"Okay, so… Don't get me wrong. Last night was… awesome." He said, his tone still loaded with nervous energy.

"Agreed." I said, as if that would end the conversation. Unfortunately it did not.

"But- um… I think- I think I made a mistake. A big one."

 _He knows. Damn. Talk your way out of it, girl._ "Well, I wouldn't go that far. I know sleeping with co-workers is frowned upon, but this isn't exactly a structured company. There's no HR department-"

"It's not that." Sam shook his head slowly as he watched the road, which was just beginning to become crowded with cars.

I looked out the window and saw another breakfast place just to our right. He would only have to turn down an alley and park in their private lot. I hadn't seen many private lots for places here in Orem. Maybe the bathroom had a big enough window to crawl through… "There's a place. Turn right here." I said, pointing out the window at the 'Fresh Start' restaurant. _Ironic._

Sam kept driving, but stopped talking for a few minutes.

"Okay, we've passed like seven places now, Sam. Where are we going?" I asked, half tempted to just get out and walk away at the next light. I had a feeling that a very uncomfortable conversation was about to unfold and I wanted nothing to do with it.

"Drugstore."

"For breakfast? Can't we at least get something made on a stove by an actual human being? I mean, I'm not picky, but I don't want granola bars and Gatorade for breakfast again."

"We aren't getting breakfast there."

I waited for him to elaborate, but got no further response. "Sam, just tell me what's going on in that confusing noggin of yours."

"I lost the condom last night." The man in the seat next to me looked stiff as a board and wouldn't even turn to look at me as I rolled my eyes. Probably a good thing he didn't. _Okay, so he knows about the condom. No big deal, right? I can just play it off._

"I know." I said as nonchalantly as I could.

That merited a sidelong glance. "You know." He said in disbelief, a hint of anger in his voice. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"It's not a big deal, Sam-"

"Our options are running out here, Ali. It's been like four and a half hours since I screwed up and a lot of emergency contraceptives have to be taken within like twelve hours to even have a chance at working. I know. I've been up for hours researching it." Sam's tone had gone from nervous and unsure to frustrated and upset.

"Well, the internet lied to you." I grumbled, crossing my arms and staring out the window. "There's one that can be used up to 128 hours after the act and still work with a pretty high success rate." _Am I just digging myself a hole here? Yeah, I think I am._ "Most of 'em stop the egg from being released, if it hasn't already popped out." _Just stop talking, Allison._

Sam glanced at me, suddenly less tense. "Right. Biology whiz. Er, medical whiz. Whatever. You know how all this works, obviously. So I think our best bet to avoid… complications would be for you to take something for it _today_."

"For 'it'?" I asked. All the tension he lost had found its way to me. "What the hell are you talking about?" _You can't just call my baby 'it'. This little miracle is not some freaky clown monster, he's- quite possibly- our child. And even in this situation, I'd expect you to have a little more respect for the tiny life we've made. Well… not that we'd have made a life yet. Even if I wasn't eleven weeks pregnant already, it would be a few more hours before anything life changing- or making- happened. But still._

"Ali…" Sam glanced at me again and sighed before looking back to the dense traffic of the city streets. "I know how all that works. I don't want my mistake to ruin your life."

His words were like a punch to the gut for me. His _mistake to ruin_ my _life?! Hold up a minute, pretty boy. You've got it backwards. My mistake will ruin both your lives… But… why does a baby always have to be a life ruiner? Why does that label keep coming up? Ugh. Wait… Maybe I can work this to my advantage. Maybe I_ can _stay. I've just got a little convincing to do._ Hope soared in my chest as I imagined Sam finally accepting this little incident and letting himself get excited about having a baby. This could be my chance.

"It doesn't have to. We could…" I said softly, searching for the right words and finding none. At a loss, I moved to look out the window again at the passing buildings and traffic of downtown Orem. The roads had bustled to life, but the sidewalks were still barren; perhaps it was too cold to walk to work today. _I guess it's a good thing I didn't try to walk away this morning._ My thoughts got ahead of me and I wasn't sure how to best finish my statement. Hopefully Sam would fill in the rest.

Sam sent me a sidelong glance that I did not meet before he looked back to the road. A heavy sigh left him and I squeezed my eyes closed, not wanting to deal with the rejection I was certain was on its way. Already I knew my attempt had failed. _I'm sorry, baby. I tried._

"Ali… I'm sorry."

That wasn't what I expected. "Sorry for what?" I asked, doing my best to keep all emotion from my voice.

"For putting you in this situation. I know how much you miss Kole, but… Ali, we can't bring a child into this world. Not the way we live. Not like this."

My eyes squeezed shut even tighter and I felt a few hot, back-stabbing drops leave my eyes and slide down my face. _Of course that wouldn't work. Why should I even try to make my life easier, happier? It's not going to happen. There's no way I can stay with them. There… there never was._ "Y'know, there is a pretty good chance nothing will happen." I quietly sniffed my nose and kept talking, hoping to end this conversation as soon as possible and use the loaded silence afterward to wander off in the store and try to escape before he wondered where I was. "Women can only conceive within a six or so day period every month, if everything is normal." _Let him think he won't have a child. It'll be easier when I'm gone._

"I don't want to take that chance." Sam said evenly. Then another sigh. "I want you to understand, Ali. I grew up in the life. Dad put hunting before everything, even us. He'd leave us alone, or with near strangers, be gone for weeks- we thought he wasn't coming back. A few times, Dean had to get jobs, or make money some other way. He never told me how, but I don't think it was legal. When we were little, the person watching us sometimes called the police to report him missing if he took his time coming back. CPS seized us a few times… Dad always had this fantastic story about what happened when he finally showed up and they'd give us back to him after a lecture or two, which was good, but… I don't want that for any kid. Especially not mine. This isn't the kind of occupation with 'bring your kid to work' days. It's dangerous, and I wouldn't want to be some holiday dad to a kid who has half my DNA; I would want to be there _every day_ for- for both of you." Sam glanced at me again and I tore away the gaze I hadn't realized had wandered to his face. He frowned at my tears, but his eyes were soft. "I'm not saying it'll never happen. You'd make a great mom, Ali, you really would. Just… not now. Please. Not with demons hunting us. Not with our only home being an underground dungeon-"

"Bunker." I corrected him with a humiliating snuffle.

"Okay, whatever. Point is, I couldn't live with myself if my own kid was raised the way I was."

"You have control over that y'know." I muttered into the window. "No one is forcing you to do it that way."

"Please just take something."

I felt my jaw start to tremble and I pushed a few more drops from my eyelashes. _Any emergency contraceptive I take will hurt my baby. Even at eleven weeks, an upset in hormones could have fatal consequences. I- there's no way._ "No." I said firmly, glaring at him with tears still running down my face.

Sam looked at me again, surprised and frustrated. "Ali, this is serious."

I rolled my eyes bitterly, venom thick in my tone. "Oh, give the man a cookie. No shit, Sam."

Sam's eyes narrowed and we pulled into the drugstore parking lot. He turned the car off and took the keys out, but we just sat there for a minute. Sam must've been thinking or something. I wasn't going to say anything until he did. I jumped a little when he turned his whole body to face me and spoke with the same frustrated, determined tone he used when arguing with Dean. "We can't afford a baby. We can't care for a baby. We don't have the resources to get you good prenatal care. There isn't a hospital close enough to Lebanon or Sioux Falls for us to get to in time when you go into labor. It's not fair to the kid. It's not fair to you. And I know this is all my fault, okay? I'm just trying to make it right. Help me out here."

I glared at him for a second before opening my door and slamming it shut behind me. It was like the sound echoed, because he got out the same way to follow quickly after me. I walked into the drugstore without looking back.

At least it was warm in there. I eventually made my way to the travel section, dodging through aisles for a while to lose Sam in the confusing layout of the store. After a brief search, I picked up a packet of two sugar pills that were meant to keep truckers awake during long hauls. These wouldn't hurt the kid, but they'd convince Sam I'd done something. Then I went to the pharmacy and got a little prescription bottle that they had for sale. I paid for both with a five dollar bill I found in my pocket before tromping back to the Impala without Sam, punching the little white pills out of their foil and into the bottle as I went. I pocketed the foil and stood outside, stewing in the cold for a few minutes before Sam came out rather suddenly, looking around and only losing the tension in his posture when he saw me leaning against the door.

 _Oh- stupid, that was your chance to run._ I groaned quietly, realizing that I'd missed a rare opportunity to make my 'clean break'. Then again, I could still see my breath. Maybe when it gets warmer…

"Ali." Sam breathed as he approached. "What the hell was that all about?"

I held up the bottle and shook it, making the pills bounce around. An incredibly fake smile plastered my face until the pills settled and I pocketed the bottle. "Can we go now?"

"Why didn't you wait for me? I would've paid for those."

"I got it. Now open the freaking car, Sam."

We didn't speak again until we placed our orders at a little carry-out joint just across the street from the drugstore. After that, we didn't talk until we got back. Dean was still sleeping.

I set the bottle with the pills on the table, hoping doubtfully that Sam would change his mind before I took them. I wasn't hungry, and putting off eating or drinking would give him time to think, but maybe not enough. So I grabbed my towel and went to the bathroom to take a long, relaxing shower. I might have devised with a better plan if I wasn't so keyed up.

The water was almost ice when I turned the shower on, so I let it run while I got ready in hopes that this motel would have water that was warmer than the last few we'd been at. The chances were pretty good for that; the towels provided didn't have stains on them, there was a bar of soap by the sink, the shower curtain was only slightly discolored, and there were only a couple chipped tiles on the floor. This place probably actually had _stars_ next to it online; if it was online at all.

I undressed slowly, standing in my underclothes in front of the mirror, just looking at my belly. I wondered briefly if Dean had noticed the baby weight when he took the apparently soiled dress off of me the other day. Quickly, though, I dismissed that thought. He would have brought it up by now if he had.

 _Speaking of Dean…_ I heard voices start up in the main room. _Better hurry a little. He'll want his turn soon._

"Dean, can I ask you something?"

 _Oh no he's not._ My eyes widened as I heard Sam's voice, timid and unsure, come through the crack at the side of the bathroom door. I wrapped a towel around myself and pressed my ear to the door, listening hard. If I had to, I would step in before things escalated.

"Five more minutes, S'mmy."

"Dean, it's kind of important. Please?"

There was a rustle of fabric. I felt like a creep listening in to their private conversation, but they knew the walls were thin, right? "The P word? What's got you spooked, Sam? Was it clowns again?"

"No- no, dude. It's not a nightmare. I- uh, I just got a message from a friend of mine. He did something stupid and doesn't know how to fix it without hurting someone… I was hoping you could help?"

"What's he tracking? Does he know?" I heard a loud yawn.

"It's not a case. Well, not this problem, at least."

"Then what'd he do? We don't have bail money, Sam."

"He's not in- okay, listen. He was… having a good time with a woman and-"

"Like 'ha ha' good, or 'hot damn' good?"

"Uh, the second one."

"Right. Keep going."

"Okay, so they're doing their thing-"

"Did he suit up? Or was that the source of the stupid?" Dean asked with a very parental tone in his voice.

"Dude, quit interrupting. Yes, he used protection. But… um, it fell off before he was done and he didn't notice until the next morning. He couldn't find it and he knows didn't take it off after the fact." Sam said quickly, like he just confessed some great flaw. "He doesn't think she's on the pill and she doesn't want to do anything about it. And, y'know, he's a hunter, couldn't take care of a kid…"

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"What's your friend's name?"

There was hesitation before the answer. "Scott."

I heard Dean sigh and I could just imagine his hand sliding down his face. "Who did you do this to, Sam? Who's the woman?"

"S-Scott didn't say her name-"

"Cut the shit, alright? I've been with you your whole life. I know when you're lying. Now who did you go all loose cannon on?"

"Loose cannon?" Sam's voice was colored with fake amusement, probably looking for a distraction.

"Sam." That was the most stern warning tone I'd ever heard out of Dean. "Was it a local? Were you drunk?"

Sam's voice was deathly quiet; I almost couldn't hear him through the door when he answered. "No and no."

Dean's voice, surprisingly, lowered to almost match Sam's. "Sit." I heard a soft thump and the creak of a few bed springs. "I need a name, Sam. You don't have to panic; this isn't the end of the world. Just breathe for a minute."

"I- it was… Dammit. I'm sorry, Dean." My mouth almost fell open as I heard the thick emotion in Sam's words. If he wasn't already crying, he was close. So close it hurt me to hear him.

 _Get out there. You're making him cry!_ I screamed at myself, all the anger and frustration from our earlier encounter disappearing like a firefly in the night. My hand flew to the doorknob, but I froze. _What if Dean convinces him to give up hunting? No, I can't let that happen… But what if Dean promises to give it up with him? I know he wants Sam to be happy. Maybe this is how he can make it happen... But then who will take their places? Who will save people, hunt things?_ My hand fell from the knob and back to my side as I mulled over all the thoughts bombarding my brain.

"I'm not the one you should apologize to. Name, Sam." Dean said. This time his tone was a bit less soft and a little more authoritative.

"I can't believe I did this. I'm careful, always, I really am. I promise, Dean, this has never happened before, and it won't ever happen again-"

"No, it won't, because you'll be taking care of her if she decides to keep the kid. You screwed up; there's no backing out _now_. If you can't convince that woman to put an end to this before it starts, then you're staying with her until she tells you to leave." Dean said, his voice much louder now. I could tell he was getting upset. "Now tell me who you screwed over. Maybe we can bribe our way out of this."

"Ali." Sam barked, followed by a strangled sob. "While you were gone last night."

Dean was quiet for a long few seconds. The steam from the shower finally registered in my brain, but I made no move to turn the tap down to save the hot water. I had no idea Sam would break down like this; it made me feel… cruel.

"…her? The girl in the bathroom over there?"

Sam must've nodded, but all I heard was a loud sniff and the movement of snot. "I don't know what to do. Please don't hate me."

"I- I thought you were taking it slow?" Dean sounded confused and somewhat hurt, his tone much more stunned, mellow than it had been just a few seconds ago. "Couldn't wait then?" No response. "I don't blame you, Sammy. It's okay to mess around now and then, as long as both parties are in favor. I'm not mad. But how long have you two been knockin' boots? My radar can't be that far off."

More sniffles from the younger of the brothers. "It was just the one time. Waited until it was safe. 'Til I got protection. Lotta good that did."

I jumped at the sound of laughter. Deep, belly laughs that I could only guess came from Dean. "You- oh man- you got our roommate pregnant the first time around the block?" More laughter. "Only you, Sammy. Only you could pull somethin' like that."

"This isn't funny, Dean." Sam said, no humor in his voice at all. "She really doesn't want to take anything. I mean, we got some pills from the drugstore earlier, but they're still sitting there on the table. I think she only got them to shut me up for a while. I doubt she'll actually take them."

Dean's laughter trailed off gradually and finally ended with a disappointed sigh. "She's not on the pill; we would've had to buy it for her. No implant or IUD, cuz she miscarried right before we met her." Dean didn't sound mad. That was a surprise to me.

"…um, Dean?" Sam asked. His voice was so nasally now. I could imagine the puffy red eyes, the tear tracks, the distraught blush- all of it. I didn't have to see to know it was there.

"Intrauterine device. Best birth control there is. Well, besides not having sex at all, but what fun is that?"

"Oh."

"Did she know the Sammy slime escaped?"

"Gross, dude."

"Did she?"

"She said she did. I couldn't find it, so it musta been…"

"Yeah, that happens sometimes. Usually you notice though. Not to be gross- again- but you must've been pretty close if you didn't realize it slid off; the worst time for that to happen is right before you go, which is why you gotta hang on to it until you're done. Make sure it doesn't move." Dean said like this was a lecture in health class. "That's why I keep telling you to have two ready. Sometimes the first goes AWOL, and trust me, pulling out for a couple seconds to rewrap is a whole lot better than attempting to raise a kid you can't be around or paying child support to an angry baby momma for eighteen years."

"I get it, I know. I fucked up. But she doesn't want to… prevent… it. And we can't _make_ her do anything, Dean. She'd never forgive me. But I'm not- I can't… I won't leave you to hunt alone. You'll get yourself killed." Sam said, his voice wavering slightly.

Dean's tone became strong and comforting; it was the tone he'd used when I first lived with them. That had been the only method they had of bringing me down from hysterics back then. "You think you're not ready to have kids. You think you can't give them everything we never had. But you are, and you can."

"But I'm really not-"

"Sam, no one is ever really ready to have kids. And no one thinks they can raise them until they have to. If Ali actually gets pregnant- which is unlikely to start with considering she's miscarried and she's constantly stressed and she's getting hurt more than I'd like to admit and I'm pretty sure she hasn't had a period since that witch minimized me- then you'll have no choice but to step up and take care of them. Winchesters don't just abandon their own, Sam." Dean said fervently.

"I know." Sam sounded… disappointed. Like he had hoped Dean would have the magic cure to his problem. "I know."

"We'll figure something out. She must be panicking too."

"She's not, though. I never imagined this kind of reaction out of her. It's like she was hoping something like this would happen, but… why? I mean, she tried so hard to prove herself, like we wouldn't bring her along with us if she wasn't this amazing hunter-in-training. And now, she's just going to throw it all away because _I made a mistake_." Sam said quietly. "How is that fair to her?"

"You're the one who kept saying 'it's her life, she should get to decide what happens to her'." Dean said in his best Sam impression, which was actually kind of hilarious. "What changed, man? It's still her life. And if little Sammy Phelps swims to Li's island paradise and sets up camp, that'll be her life too. Well, for nine months at least."

"I- I don't know what changed, okay? I don't know what to do. I don't know…" The distress in Sam's voice was starting to give me second thoughts.

 _It isn't fair to him… What I'm doing isn't fair to either of them. They need each other. I was used to living alone before I met them, back at school. It won't be so hard to do it again. And I can't hope for Sam to choose me over Dean. I can't ask Dean to quit protecting people just so I can steal Sam into a normal life without him putting up too much of a fuss, because Dean will still be with us. With us, but miserable. Both of them would be miserable in the kind of life I want. I have no right to do that to them. My happiness shouldn't matter, not compared to the lives of countless others who could be saved by those Winchester boys._

My hand slowly fell down the slight curve of my belly as I felt my face get hot and my eyes start to sting. _I'm sorry, baby, but you'll never know your father. I'll tell you all about these men- their adventures, their mission, their kindness, their bond- but I'll never tell you that you came from their bloodline. They'll be fairytale heroes to you. And they will never know you. They won't even know you exist. We can't drag them down if they don't know you exist._

I reached down and opened the door, my decision made. Both of them glanced up at me as I walked to the table, still wrapped tightly in a towel. Sam looked away immediately and seemed to hunch into himself, as if I'd scolded him. He was sitting opposite Dean on the beds, and as I thought, his cheeks, nose, and eyes were red. Even the back of his neck was flushed. Dean blankly looked me up and down as I grabbed the pill bottle and the hot chocolate I'd ordered with breakfast, downing the pills in a gush of overly sweetened luke-warmth. I set the bottle back on the table, empty, and tugged the towel closer around me.

"Morning Dean." I said, faking as much cheeriness as I could.

His face seemed to fall as he glanced at the bottle on the table. It was like he hadn't heard me at all.

"I said good morning, Dean." I repeated, trying to break the trance he was in. _Now why is_ he _acting funny?_

When his eyes met mine, I was so confused. It was like _his_ heart, not Sam's, had just taken a beating. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then he shook his head and cleared his throat. "Mornin', Li." He said, ducking his gaze to where his hands were fidgeting with a hangnail in his lap.

"I'll be done with the shower soon." I said, turning quickly and retreating back to the steamy safety of the bathroom.

 _The hell just happened?_ I wondered as I finished stripping and stepped into the warm water. _That's what they wanted… Wasn't it?_

" _Dean_." The word, so familiar on the lips of the younger Winchester, erupted in a sob so profound it took my breath away.

 _What have I done?_

"S-Sam, this was what you wanted, wasn't it?" Dean said, his tone taking on a thickness of its own.

"I don't..." His voice broke. My heart felt like it stopped, crushed by the weight of the silence beyond the door. The next word had it pounding so hard I was afraid it would snap a rib. "No. _No._ "

I sank down to the floor, my back against the cool porcelain of the tub as I listened to the unrestrained emotion flooding the next room. Sam cried for forty five minutes. I didn't move. The hot water ran out.

 _What have I done?_

* * *

 **A/N: Feels. Sorry. Next chapter will be just as bad. Then maybe a little happier? Who knows. Haven't written that far yet. Probably some babies, demons, angst-y stuff. The usual. Let me know what you thought of this chapter or what you think Ali will do next...**


	39. Push Comes to Shove

**A/N: Vivi here! I must be on a cliffhanger kick this month. Sorry not sorry. They push the plot along... This sentence is a shameless plug for my newest fic John's Boys (totally different AU)(check it out). By the way, I'm loving all the reviews; keep 'em coming! And I have a poll for you, you can answer via review: Who thinks the baby reveal will be in one chapter? Two? Four? Never? Or does she lose it? Let me know what your guess is... (Your responses WILL NOT affect the plot this time. I was just wondering what people are thinking.)**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"S-Sam, this was what you wanted, wasn't it?" Dean said, his tone taking on a thickness of its own._

 _"I don't..." His voice broke. My heart felt like it stopped, crushed by the weight of the silence beyond the door. The next word had it pounding so hard I was afraid it would snap a rib. "No. No."_

 _I sank down to the floor, my back against the cool porcelain of the tub as I listened to the unrestrained emotion flooding the next room. Sam cried for forty five minutes. I didn't move. The hot water ran out._

What have I done?

* * *

By the time I felt almost ready to stand up, the water was freezing cold and I was shivering so hard my teeth kept clacking together. _Now or never. Don't hurt them again, girl._ I dressed in the same clothes I'd gone out in earlier. _Go out, don't talk, put your shoes on, open the door, and run._

Easier said than done. I wouldn't get my head start. _Have to hide somewhere for a while, then. Somewhere close, so they expand their search and I can slip through the cracks. They already think there's never going to be a kid, so the time is right. Now or never._

I was still shivering a little when I opened the bathroom door and strolled to my shoes. Sam was face down on his bed, arms up under his pillow, breathing evenly though not asleep. Dean looked up from his computer as I emerged and stood, walking past me to get to the bathroom. He looked fine, but Dean always did have a good poker face.

Shoes were on in ten seconds. _Don't take anything. Nothing here is yours. But… the jacket already has blood on it, and tears from that wendigo…_ I reminded myself as I grabbed the thing and tried to silently open the door. Luckily it slid flawlessly and the door opened without so much as a squeak. Outside, the air bit at my face and had the shivers worsened substantially; the midmorning sun did nothing to warm my skin. The door closed just as quietly and I backed away from it like it would attack me. _Go._

 _But I want to stay._ I felt hot tears well up in my eyes as I turned and jogged to the sidewalk across the parking lot.

 _Don't look back. Just run. It'll be easier like this, for them. Do it for them._ My phone's weight was suddenly too much to handle in my pocket. I took it out and set it under a bench in front of a small antique shop nestled in the storefront of an old four story building. Looking left and right, I crossed the road; the early morning traffic hadn't picked up in this part of town yet.

Down an alley to the next street, then back in the direction of the motel. _They'll think I went to the left. That's where they'll look first. So right- and diagonally away- is my best bet._

Lucky for me, a little old woman was just opening her boutique. I jogged over and went in, flinching at the bell that rung over my head. "Morning. Out early for our twenty percent off sale?" The woman smiled and came out from behind a counter to greet me.

"Yes." I smiled back and scanned over the clothes in the store. They were all very artsy, with wild prints and strange designs that didn't look remotely comfortable. "I've been wanting to stop in for a long time. I have my morning off, finally."

"Oh, how wonderful. Would you like me to set up a fitting room for you?" The lady, who was actually very short, moved away and back toward the counter.

"Yes please." I said, gathering a few articles at random to make my story convincing. "I've already got some styles in mind."

The fitting rooms were tucked away behind a partition in the store; definitely not visible from the road. _This should work. Just keep trying on clothes, tell the woman you can't decide for an hour or so, and then high tail it out of Orem._

"Oh, ma'am?" I called from the doorway of one of the fitting rooms.

"Yes, darling?"

"I, uh, my supervisors at the shop weren't happy that I took off this morning. I mean, I scheduled it weeks ago, but they're still mad. They might come looking for me. Please don't tell them I'm here." I said, popping one of my 'please help me' grins.

"Of course, hun. Who am I looking out for? What do they look like?" The woman closed all the rest of the open fitting room doors as we spoke.

 _Nice. If they look back here, they'll think they're all empty._ "Two really tall guys. One sandy blond and one with darker hair. They'll probably try to tell you they're looking for a sister or something."

"Okay sweetheart. Take as much time as you need and let me know if you need anything. I have free coffee or tea if you want. For anyone who wanders in." She smiled and went back out to the storefront. I latched the door to my little cubicle closed and sat on the padded bench there.

 _Won't be long now._

It was actually sooner than I expected. I heard the little bell tinkle again just a few minutes later. "Welcome, sirs. Are you here for our twenty percent off sale?" The woman asked with perfect execution.

"Uh, no. We're looking for our sister. She ran away this morning, about a half hour ago. She's not feeling well and we need to find her quick." That voice sounded like Dean, even though the thick plush carpet back here deadened every sound that was made.

"She's about five foot seven, like one thirty soaking wet. Dyed blonde hair, short, and a dark red jacket. She lost her phone, too, so we can't even call her and see if she's alright." Sam. Definitely Sam.

 _I'm sorry, Sam. It's better this way._

"I'm sorry, gentlemen. I only just unlocked the doors and I wasn't paying any mind to folks walking by. I don't know how to help you." The woman said, even sounding a little distressed.

"That's okay. Here, if you see anyone who looks like her, call us." Sam sighed loudly enough that I could hear it all the way back here. The bell tinkled again, but I didn't hear it shut for a long few seconds.

"Thank you, ma'am. C'mon, dude, we've got ground to cover." The bell finally signaled the closing of the door and I let my head fall into my hands.

I didn't try any of the clothes on. I didn't even look at them, really. The woman tended to a few other customers and asked me if I wanted anything to drink. An hour later, the coffee cup was empty and I was ready to head out again. _They probably gave every shop owner within a half mile radius their phone number and my description._

 _Ditch the jacket, then._

"How are you doing, miss?" The owner came back once more and tapped on the door to my cubicle. I picked up a shirt at random and tried to plaster an excited smile on my face.

"I think I found the one." I opened the door and held the dark purple tunic over my shirt, showing it off. "What do you think?"

"Lovely, just lovely. That color will really bring out your eyes, dearie. Shall I ring it up for you?"

"Yes, please." I said, leaving the fitting room and my jacket, tucked under the pile of clothes still on their hangers. I only brought my hoodie and the shirt I never intended to buy.

"That'll be thirty-nine ninety-six, with the sale." The woman folded the shirt and plopped it into a bag while I pretended to panic.

"I don't have my wallet." I patted all my pockets, searching vainly for something I knew wasn't there. "Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I must've left it at my apartment."

"I can hold the shirt for you if you'd like."

"Could you? That would be great. I live on the other side of town, so it might be a while before I can get back here. Is that okay?"

"Yes, take your time. And enjoy your day off." She smiled and I instantly felt guilty for lying to her. _She'll be the first of many, girl. Better get used to it._

Three hours later, I was shivering in my hoodie, walking fast through what I thought was the bad side of town. People watched me from doorways as they smoked and more than one car had already honked at me, their owner spilling profane words about my body as they sped by. _Just have to get out of the city. Find a small town, or a ride far away. Get a job._ I was already hungry, the feeling clawing at my insides. The longer I waited for the sensation to abate, the worse it got. The memory of our breakfast take-out kept reminding me of what I missed out on. I tried not to think about it.

Four hours later, I had finally left the city limits. Already I'd had to run into the trees twice to get away from some very aggressive men in vans who stopped when they saw me walking. My nose was running; from the cold or from the constant solemn cascade of saltwater, I didn't know. My feet ached and my legs burned, my cheeks were numb, but I had to keep going. I had to get far enough away that they'd forget me. They needed to move on.

Not that I had to.

Apparently Orem was _miles_ from any other towns, because I walked for another three hours without seeing so much as a gas station. The sun was starting to set.

I didn't know if I'd survive a freezing cold night without any source of heat. I had no way to start a fire, no blankets, no jacket, no _anything_ to keep warm. _Thank goodness I pitched the phone. No way out of my plan now. But oh, no way to call for a ride. No way to figure out where I am. Ugh._ I just hunched my shoulders and resolved to continue walking until I found somewhere to hole up, or a person- a nice person- who would give me a ride to the next town.

Second thoughts were a familiar concept to me. I'd made enough mistakes in my life to have plenty of experience regretting my decisions. And while I regretted ditching my jacket and not staying the night in the city where at least I could have some kind of protection, I was still firm in my decision to get far away from the Winchesters and start a new life. Not start over, just… remake what was already there.

It was two hours later when I finally decided to get off the road and find a relatively dry spot in the surrounding wood. Even in the gloomy darkness, I could see that frost had settled already, and there were ominous dark gray clouds rolling in. Had I seen any cars on the road in the past half hour, I would've flagged them down. But I was completely, utterly, and totally alone. _Just like I wanted, right? This was the plan._ I thought bitterly, rubbing at my aching stomach. _Well, not totally alone. Guess we're in this together, huh, champ? I'll get us something to eat tomorrow. Promise._

Stumbling down the embankment that held the road a few feet above the surrounding terrain, I spotted a big, old, bushy pine tree just begging to shelter us. It was a few blessed degrees warmer near the trunk, on top of the fallen pine needles that poked me wherever I sat. I huddled up and tugged my hoodie over my knees to try and consolidate my heat around my core. The road was perfectly visible from here, through a few not-so-dense boughs. Not that I could make it up there if I heard a car coming anyway. _Should make my body easy to find, right? Near the highway, just inside the forest- the police won't even have to look when the birds start circling._

 _Hope the guys don't see the reports. 'Pregnant woman found frozen to tree, died of exposure'._

I hugged my knees just a little closer and rested my head on top of them. _Great plan, Ali. Great plan. This is the one that does it, then. At least I won't be hunted anymore. By police, by demons, by my friends…_

 _Is this really what I wanted?_ The though echoed for a few second in my mind. Nothing came up to confirm it, but nothing came to deny it either. Then my foggy brain made a few synapses and I remembered what this was all about. _It's not about what I want. I'm doing this for them. It's for their own good._

The pine tree actually served to warm me up quite a bit. Being out of the wind probably helped too. I was still shivering, but it didn't hurt anymore. Sleep might even have been on the menu had I felt safe enough to partake. Which I did not.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans. Staying up late the night before, waking up early, running all day, and then staying up late again did not serve to allow me a sleepless night. I was almost completely asleep when the sound of an engine registered in my ears. _I'll never get up there in time to stop it, so why try?_ I closed my eyes again and tried to ignore the steadily nearing roar.

I jumped a little when I heard the screeching sound of tires locking up on the road in front of me. Headlights were shining bright towards my left, down the road from where I sat when I finally located the glow through the tree branches. But the lights weren't moving in the direction they should have been.

The car was backing up.

Stunned, I sat motionless until the car was to my right, the lights illuminating the frosted grass and some of the tree line. And my footsteps, crunched into the frost and now a dull green against the ethereal white leading right to the tree I sat against.

That's when I heard the telltale squeak of those old doors. One. And then the other.

I was running full tilt in the dark forest, relying on the meager light from the city that bounced off the clouds to keep me from falling flat on my face. Too soon, I heard the shouts. Too familiar voices yelling my name. Too close. Too much noise under my feet as I ran.

How could I face them now? After I'd gone and done this? I'd make it one way or another and this was for the best; they'd be fine in a few days anyway.

 _Quietly, quietly!_ I screamed to myself as I dodged a patch of sticks fallen from a dead tree somewhere overhead. A few of them snapped, but I hoped it wasn't enough to lead the guys any further into the woods.

I was wrong.

"Ali?" I could hear his voice loud and clear now.

 _Curse those jerks and their long legs._ I growled in my head as I slipped down a steep hill, taking a sharp left when I almost ran into a river.

"Please stop, we can talk about this." Sam yelled. I ducked behind a thick patch of briars and risked a glance over my shoulder while I tried to catch my breath. Both of them were stopped at the top of that hill, obviously using the high ground as a vantage point. I would have been easy to spot if I wasn't hunkered down with thorns pressing into my back.

"C'mon, Li. It's freezing out here. Don't do this to me _again_." Dean shouted, sounding more than a little angry.

 _Don't. Move._

"I don't hear her anymore. She must've stopped." Sam said, more quietly this time.

"Don't count on it. She's light on her feet. We keep following the trail until it ends. That's where she'll be." Dean moved to come down the hill. I panicked and took off again.

 _Quietly!_ _Cross the river. They'll lose the trail._

 _But I'll freeze to death if I get wet and they don't end up finding me!_

"Ali!"

 _SHIT._ I picked up the pace, desperate to find a way out of this situation before they caught up. It was very obvious that I'd already been spotted; there was undeniable recognition in Sam's voice. I concentrated more on getting away than being quiet and stealthy. Maybe I could lose them in the trees.

Who was I kidding? I never had a chance.

It was Dean who caught up to me first. "Just stop, would ya?" He yelled, making a grab for my hood. It choked me when he ground to a halt, flooring me as my legs continued on and my neck held me back. In an instant I had the hoodie off, leaving it limp in Dean's hand. I was out of arm's reach before he knew what I was doing. "Oh, come on!"

I made it a hundred yards more before I heard both of them right on top of me, telling me to stop running, to wait a minute, to talk things out. There might even have been bits and pieces of an exorcism thrown in there. A hard right brought me to the sheer drop that was the bank of the river. This part of it was pretty narrow. I thought I could jump it, put some distance between us.

As always, I was wrong.

And the river was deep. The opposite bank gave way under my foot, crumbling like my hopes of surviving this night. My entire body was submerged in the icy water and reflexively I gasped, bringing some of the arctic soup into my mouth but stopping it before my lungs were touched. _Swim downriver, on the surface. The current is fast; maybe they won't be able to catch up._

 _Solid plan. I can do that._

Trouble was, I couldn't figure out which direction was up, and I wasn't floating. The current had me suspended in the freezing darkness, churning so dizzyingly that I just tumbled along with it. Space wasn't something I'd ever wanted to visit, but I imagined this was what it would be like to get lost in it. I tried to open my eyes, but the water stung something fierce; it was too cold, or too muddy. I couldn't tell. My lungs started to burn as my adrenaline-jacked body used up all the oxygen I had to spare and then some. I flailed in every direction, stretching out to try and find the bottom so I could orient myself, but for what felt like minutes, nothing even grazed my hands or feet.

Until something did.

Something wrapped around my wrist and tugged. I had no choice but to go with it. It could have been a root catching my hand in the rushing water. It could have been a long forgotten rope swing that dangled into the river. It could have been anything. But as I broke the surface, gasping and sputtering and shivering, something strong and warm took me under the arms and I was moving again, this time on top of the water.

"Take her." Something nudged me against the steep river bank and I was pushed out of the water. I listed to the side at the sudden change in position, my muscles all but useless now that they were numb and starting to cramp. To top it all off, the bitter wind left me breathless and I was sure I'd fall right back into the drink. But something had me under the arms again in a split second. And then I was out of the water, dumped roughly on the leaf litter. The warmth was gone and I shivered hard, struggling to catch my breath. I curled into a ball, desperate to warm my belly up before… before…

A splashing sound and some profanities later, the warm came back. It was just a hand on my shoulder, probably, but it was wonderful.

 _No no no no no. Get up, run!_ I had to remind myself that this situation was in fact very bad for my plan. Anyone finding me could ruin my chances of escape. With what felt like the last of my energy, I tried to roll onto my hands and knees, then stand. The warm hand left me and I lurched forward a few steps, only to fall hard to the forest floor. My muscles were cramping worse now. I couldn't catch a good breath. The cold seeped right through my bones and the shivering just… stopped.

 _Maybe this is the end._ I thought with an odd sense of peace as my vision started to blur. _'s not so bad. No monsters. No pain. It'll be slow, effortless. Just slip away with the cold. Me and you, sweetheart. We'll just let go._

* * *

 **A/N: Gonna need a parachute for this cliffhanger. Let me know what you think of the chapter and don't forget that poll I'm taking! Who thinks the baby reveal will be in one chapter? Two? Four? Never? Or does she lose it? Or does she die by this river? Let me know what your guess is... (Your responses WILL NOT affect the plot this time. I was just wondering what people are thinking.)**


	40. He'll Stand His Ground

**A/N: Vivi here! The story must go on. This, my friends, is a sappy chapter. One of the most touchy feely I've written in a while. Don't worry though, the next chapter is one of the most violent I've written in a while... Just to keep you on your toes! Don't forget to leave me a review and follow the story for updates. Some swearing in this chapter (like there is in most of my fics). You've been warned.**

* * *

Previously on Family Practice:

 _Maybe this is the end._ I thought with an odd sense of peace as my vision started to blur. _'s not so bad. No monsters. No pain. It'll be slow, effortless. Just slip away with the cold. Me and you, sweetheart. We'll just let go._

* * *

"Ali!" I was on my back, somehow. A loud, warped voice was shouting in my face and someone was shaking my shoulders hard enough for my head to roll to the side. An unfamiliar… something brushed my cheek. It smelled safe. Like leather and whiskey. Like home.

"Wake up." A different voice this time, sounding much harsher than the first. "Sam, we have to get out of here. Possessed or not, she'll freeze to death if we stay out here much longer. That demon might keep her alive after this but if the cold wrecks her heart, that's it. And the freezing thing goes for you too. You're just as dumb as she is. Jumpin' into a freaking river in the middle of the freaking coldest night of the month."

"Ali, I need you to wake up." First voice sounded very tense and just a little desperate. "Come _on_."

"Get a move on, Sam. I've got her."

"Back off." I felt myself being lifted off the ground and leaned forward against something solid and oh so warm. My arms felt trapped at my sides, but I was okay with that. They were feeling a little bit warmer than my legs, which were spread wide with something big and kind of warm between them. I was sitting on something that was also warm when I felt my body start to shift, like whatever I was up against was moving.

 _Warm warm warm…_ I sighed as the shivering slowly came back.

"Sam, really, I can-"

"Which way?"

The voices stopped, but we kept moving. I coveted the heat coming off of what I guessed was a person carrying me like a child against their chest. Finally, I could breathe without it catching in my throat. And the shivering wasn't as bad as it had been before.

 _Don't get kidnapped._ My inner voice said after a few minutes. It sounded just as sleepy as I felt. _No one's coming for you, remember? You're all you've got. You have to protect him. Fight back._

So I did. The warmth was put out of my mind and I squirmed, tried to get my arms loose, but they just kept hitting soft, damp fabric. A tiny cool object bumped against my chest as I wriggled but that was the least of my worries. I couldn't move my legs; they were held pretty securely where they were and honestly they were still pretty numb. After a minute or so my options were running low. Part of me doubted that the person carrying me even noticed I was trying to move. I tried leaning back as hard and fast as I could, throwing my head away from the person and pushing as hard as I could with my arms, confined though they were.

"Shi- Ali, calm down." One of the things I was sitting on- an arm probably- flew up to push me back against the person as I felt him stumble a few steps forward. "I've got you. You're safe. We're taking you home."

"No." I groaned, struggling against the fabric that held my arms with renewed vigor. "Leave me al-lone." _Don't get kidnapped. No one is coming for you._

 _No one is coming for you._

 _They probably won't even want to see me after this. They're probably glad that I'm gone. Fewer resources wasted, fewer mistakes made, fewer things to worry about; what's the downside for them? I was burden all along. They're glad I'm gone._

 _No one's coming. This is it. This is how I go._

 _I'm sorry, honey. Hopefully it'll be quick. Maybe I'll get to see you in Heaven. If not, say hi to Kole and Mark for me._

Finally, I opened my eyes to assess my situation more thoroughly, hoping to spot a way out, or at least a way to fight back. I saw little else but the familiar side of Sam's neck, dotted with water that was dripping from his hair. The sight stunned me; I was speechless. Overjoyed tears filled my eyes as I felt every muscle in my body relax. I laid my head limply on his shoulder and focused on breathing.

 _He came._

"It's us, Li. You're safe." Dean. Dean was there too, walking in front of us from the sound of it. "We're almost back to the car. You'll be warm in no time."

I wanted to tell him that I was already warming up, already feeling safe right where I was, thank you very much. I wanted to cry and hug them and feel wanted again.

 _Both of them came for me. But… but no, I can't let them- I can't-_

"Put m-me down." I struggled even harder, lurching from side to side and pushing hard against Sam. That at least got him to fall to his knees. At that level, I could get my legs under me and tear off the jacket that was holding my arms down. Freedom seemed within my grasp.

Well, until Dean pinned me between his hulking mass and a tree. I only made it about three steps. "Who are you?" He growled, nearly grinding my face into the bark.

"Get off." I grumbled, glad that I was somehow wearing my hoodie again so the tree couldn't cut me up. What I was more concerned about, though, was the fact that my legs were totally numb and if the tattoo was pulling, I'd never know. The kid could be dead already. And if not, Dean could be killing him and I _wouldn't even know._

"Not until I get some answers." He leaned harder into me and I felt the bark of the tree scratch my face.

"Ow ow ow-" I whimpered, trying to push myself off of the tree, or at least far enough away that the bark stopped cutting into my face.

"Dean, lay off-" Sam was back on his feet from the sound of it.

"Easy way or hard way. Your choice." Dean didn't let up at all, but he didn't push any harder.

"I'm not poss-essed." I said, trying to keep my voice even as I started shivering violently once again. I'd been taking more body heat from Sam than I thought. Without him close, I seemed to lose more heat than I generated, even with the painfully forceful shivers.

"I don't believe you."

"Dean, what if she's telling the truth? Demons don't get cold. They don't pass out. And they can't move if they have a devil's trap on them. That pendant was intact when we put it on her, remember? We both checked." Footsteps behind me brought Sam's voice closer. "I don't think she's possessed, Dean."

"Like hell she's not. Why would she run if she wasn't?"

I cried out as he pushed harder than before.

"Dean, stop." Sam pleaded. Behind me, I felt Dean move like he batted something away. Sam growled quietly from just outside my range of sight.

"Who are you?" He shouted right in my ear.

"Jus' lemme go." I yelled through the shivers and the snot and the sudden onslaught of tears. "I left so I-I wouldn't drag you down. I'm d-dead weight, remember?"

The pressure let up just a little. "Wait… what are you saying?" Dean's voice was so much quieter this time. I almost didn't hear him through the ringing left over from earlier.

"I'm useless. All I do is hurt the team. I'll just drag you down." _I know I'm a burden. With a kid. But I'll never tell you that._ A single sob escaped before I could rein it in.

"Sam, get my flask."

"Dean, I really don't think-"

" _Now_."

Before long a steady stream of painfully cold holy water was flowing down the back of my head and into my semi-dry hoodie. I shivered hard and whimpered pathetically at the biting sensation. As soon as I didn't steam, Dean backed off. I almost fell; I'd forgotten how weak my legs had become.

"Ali, are you okay?" Sam stepped in and grabbed me under the arm to keep me upright while I struggled to make my numb legs function.

"I'm f-fine." I grumbled, shaking him off of my arm as soon as I had a solid hold on the tree I'd already bled on. "Just let me go. It- it's better this way."

Two sets of confused eyes bored into mine as I stood leaning against a tree soaking wet, crying, bleeding, shaking, numb, and dangerously cold. _The picture of confidence_.

"What are you talking about? What's going on?" Sam asked softly, the entirety of his body language screaming of confusion and hurt. This was the scene I'd hoped to avoid at all costs.

And now it was here. And it was worse than I ever dreamed.

"You're so m-much better off without me." I said, wiping some of the water off of my face with the sleeve of my hoodie. "Why would I stay when I know I'm h-olding you back?"

The tense silence that followed was filled only by a few chirping bugs, the breeze moving dead leaves on a tree nearby, and the crushing weight of fessing up to why I did I'd done to them. Kinda.

It seemed like forever before someone broke the stillness. "Look, Li, no good decisions are made this late at night. Let's just go back to the room and sleep on this, huh? Get some food in you- I know you haven't eaten all day." Dean said, approaching me like I was a wild animal. It wasn't the first time that he'd had to do that and it sickened me that he'd ever had to at all. "We'll get whatever you want, and something hot to drink, warm you up-"

"I made the decision weeks ago!" I shouted, surprising everyone- including myself- with the volume and emotion that spilled through my lips. "It's not fair to y-you and I'm not fond of pity parties. You don't need me and I can m-make it just fine on my own without slowing you g-g-guys down and getting people k-killed."

"You… you wanna leave?" Dean asked, entirely skeptical, like I was drunk or high or something.

"Why?" Sam asked quietly.

I couldn't help feeling like I'd just taken a swift kick to the gut when I heard the broken word and saw the pain in the face that _still_ set my heart on fire.

The betrayal.

The abandonment.

The loss.

I saw it all. Everything that I had felt from the moment I decided to leave them, I saw reflected in Sam's eyes in that moment.

"I- I…" My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My numb cheeks started to get feeling back as a rush of blood colored the devastation on my face. "I'm sorry. But I have to-"

"You just- you gave me everything I've ever wanted and now you _leave_?" Sam stepped toward me, his voice considerably louder than mine and ringing with an authority that I'd never been privileged to experience before. I cringed back, falling against the tree and sliding to the ground, landing with a soft thud in the frosted leaf litter. "Just like that? How is _that_ fair, Ali? How is that fair to me? To us? Help me understand. You decided _weeks_ ago to leave? And you still led me on like I was some gullible kid?"

Dean lowered his gaze with that classic poker face on. He crossed his arms before turning and walking away. He disappeared behind Sam, into the darkness.

My eyes snapped back to Sam a moment later. Apparently he wasn't done. "This isn't a game to me, Ali. I thought we had something worth fighting for. Yeah, I know I've made some mistakes- some big ones- but those were never your fault. None of the mistakes were. I put you in a situation that I had no right to be a part of and _forced_ you to do something you didn't want to do. I should be the only one feeling guilty."

"It's more than that, S-Sam." I whispered, looking away and closing my eyes. My lip began to tremble and I made no move to stop it. This was a side of Sam I'd never seen before and I was surprised by how much it frightened me. He _was_ a trained killer after all. And knowing that I had just willingly put him through hell for my own selfish reasons did nothing to reassure me. Adrenaline rushed through my icy stiff body and left me feeling jittery and hollow, unable to open my eyes for fear of watching him walk away, or worse.

 _He won't hurt me._ I had to remind myself. _He's still Sam. And- and if anything actually happens, Dean will… he might… he would step in... right?_

Leaf litter crunched and I heard Sam crouch down in front of me. A sharp intake of air and a sudden bracing of my body were my only responses. But then… nothing happened for a few seconds. No shouts. No disappointed sighs. No physical contact whatsoever, kind or not.

I flinched when he started up again, but his voice was so much softer this time. "You don't hold us back at all and if you did we'd do something about it. Train more or something. Fix whatever was wrong or change the way we do things so it works. Why the _hell_ would you go this far instead of just telling us that you felt like this? We spent the entire day looking for you when we could have been getting rid of that jinx back at the club. And you know what? We'd have spent a month- a _year_ \- looking for you." Through my chattering teeth, I heard him sigh.

 _So this is when they finally ditch me. My plan worked after all._

When his voice again broke the silence, it was quiet, sad. "You didn't say anything, there was no note; we thought you'd been possessed again. Do you know what that felt like? To realize that the person you love may have been taken and damned to a living hell, and you might never see her again? _Never_ be able to save her?"

Looking up through blurry eyes, I was half certain that the droplets on Sam's face weren't just from his hair. _Wha… what?_ "I never m-meant it to be this way." I breathed, letting one humiliating sob out before wiping my face with my sleeve again. "I didn't want to hurt y-you. A- a clean break is easier to heal, right?"

"Not when it's like this. Not when you take a third of the piece and expect the rest to recover."

"Sam, I- I-"

 _Should I tell him?_

 _What if he thinks I'm lying?_

 _What if he doesn't?_

 _They'll put me in Bobby's house and throw away the key, at least until they have to call the ambulance, when I pop. No, telling him won't work out no matter how I spin it._

 _I can't… I can't live like that._

 _What do I do now? I can't expect them to take me back just like that. I went too far. I did something unforgivable. This… this is something that we might not ever be able to recover from. Maybe I could ask for a ride to the next town. They'll probably do that for me. Maybe. But after that… I have nothing. Nowhere to go, no one to call. What am I going to do?_

"I'm s-scared." I whispered, breathing the only truth I knew in that moment before letting a few more festering sobs escape. Drawing my knees to my chest, I sobbed and wailed as loud and long as I wanted into the scratchy fabric of my hoodie. I half expected Sam to get up and walk away, even after his heart wrenching speech.

"You don't have to be." I heard him move.

 _This is it. This is when they leave you and never look back. You don't have to be scared because no one will cry when you're gone. No one will miss you. You'll just disappear and it will be like you never existed. You can't be scared when you never existed, right?_

Seconds later, he was sitting beside me with his arms encircling my still sobbing form, pulling me close enough that I could feel body heat again. "I'm here. We're here for you. No matter what."

 _Why did I ever think this was a good plan?_ I sobbed to myself. Even if they didn't leave, we would never be the same after this. They'd always feel the need to keep an eye on me, they would always want to know where I was, what I was doing.

Bunker nerd was starting to sound more and more attractive as I shivered next to Sam in the freezing darkness. At least then I, and probably my baby too, would be safe. Warm. Fed. I might even get to see the guys, talk to them every once in a while, if they let me.

"I'm sorry." The sound barely left my lips before the next sob seized them.

"Just breathe for a while."

I tried. It didn't work.

"Do you ev-ven still want me ar-round?" I gasped, lifting my head to look him in the eye. He looked just as exhausted and emotionally drained as I felt. Even so, the sight of him here with me, after I royally screwed up, warmed something in my heart that went cold as soon as I left that motel room. The tears in my eyes started coming even faster, hotter. "You should probably jus' leave me here. I d-deserve it."

"I'm not letting you freeze to death." He said as though I hadn't just done anything to crush his heart at all. "You _are_ coming back with us tonight. If… if you still want to leave tomorrow, we'll set you up with some cash, clothes, anything you need." The sigh that followed was defeated and heartbroken. His arms wrapped just a little tighter. "We can't stop you from leaving but we can stop you from killing yourself trying."

"I don' wanna leave." The phrase escaped and it felt like the most sincere thing I'd said all day. "But it's b-better for you if I d-do. You won't have to d-deal with me anymore. I can't cause more problems. It'll be e-easier that way."

He just hugged me closer still and pulled my legs up over his so I was sitting in his lap, catching a wonderful amount of heat that left me feeling so much calmer. "I disagree." One soft kiss was planted right on my temple as his arms, stronger than I'd ever noticed before, held me together.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, finally feeling the sob-fest come to an end. "If-if I don't go, can you… will you…" _Forgive me?_

"I'll take care of you. No matter what." _Already have._

" _Sam._ " And the sobs were back.

* * *

 **A/N: I want to know your thoughts, but I am not a mindreader; leave me a review! What are your thoughts about the upcoming chapter? Will Ali actually stay this time? Can she and Sam work through what just happened and go back to being the way they were?**

 **Can't wait to hear your predictions. See you next week (or sooner because I really like the next chapter and I want to share it so you might want to follow FP just in case I can't wait until Monday)!**


	41. And You'll Fall

**A/N: Vivi here! I didn't realize how long this chapter was, but I can't split it well so you'll just have to enjoy the mid-week update. Violence in this chapter (attempted murder), and swearing. Thank you for weathering through all like 40 of the chapters so far. I'll probably do at least 15 more (maybe, depends how the plot progresses, I already cut a lot of it out). And thanks for all the feedback and reviews! I'm not sure I've had so many people follow any _one_ of my stories! You guys are awesome! On that note: please don't hate me after this chapter. Have fun reading 'And You'll Fall'...**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"I'm sorry." I whispered, finally feeling the sob-fest come to an end. "If-if I don't go, can you… will you…"_ Forgive me?

 _"I'll take care of you. No matter what."_ Already have.

 _"Sam." And the sobs were back._

* * *

A few minutes later, I was clinging to Sam's neck, still sobbing, as he carried me and my useless newborn fawn legs out of the woods. Dean met us about thirty yards away from the tree with blood on it and led us back to the road. We were driving back to the motel with the heat on high, Sam and I in the back, and a Metallica cassette playing pretty loudly to drown out the sobbing that I couldn't manage to reign in just yet.

No one spoke when we got back, but I was pushed into the bathroom with a clean towel. My legs had warmed up enough in the car that I could walk in a mostly straight line without falling. I showered quickly; it didn't help the shivering. Dean tossed a pair of heavy flannel PJ pants at me when I stumbled out wrapped only in the towel; they were a couple sizes too big, but my legs started to regain feeling after just a few minutes in them. I sat miserably on Sam's bed, basically dead to the world, while he showered. At least the tattoo wasn't tugging. That was the cherry on this shit-cake of a day.

 _They're mad. They're gonna make me leave tomorrow._ My bleary eyes finally focused on the ugly pattern of the pants I wore and I huffed one humorless laugh before sniffing my nose. _No. They- they wouldn't do that._ I looked over my shoulder at the bathroom door, then to the tiny kitchenette where Dean was busy doing something so he wouldn't have to deal with me. _They looked for me all day. Sam jumped in the river to save me. Maybe… maybe we can stay after all. Maybe we can make this work. What do you think, kid? You think… you think they'll want to meet you?_ My eyes returned to the pants, covered partially at the waist by one of the shirts Sam had given me to sleep in months ago.

While lost in my thoughts, Dean came up and knelt in front of me, surprising me when he wordlessly cleaned and bandaged the cuts on my face left by that tree. I smiled and tried not to start crying again.

Before long, he surprised me again. I heard the stove click off and suddenly I had a shocked look on my face and a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup in my hands. Dean pointed to the table like it was an order. I readily complied. By the time the bowl was empty, my eyelids were heavy and the shivering had almost stopped. Bed was sounding better and better. So much more comfortable than pine needles.

Dean was splayed out on his bed, a limb coming off every side of the queen mattress with soft snores already filling the room. I took the hint.

When Sam was done in the bathroom, he joined me in his bed, cuddling up close. It was like the entire day had been erased; there was no shame, no anger, no bitterness. They just… brought me back.

All I wanted in that moment was to stay right there. I was warm all night long, surrounded by a family that was as unbreakable as one of Cas' promises.

* * *

Sam was in the shower when I woke up. Briefly, I wondered why he would shower again after yesterday, but I wasn't too curious. I didn't really have time to be curious. My stomach emptied its contents into the toilet within a minute of me waking up. Of all the things I hated in this world, morning sickness was slowly working its way towards the top.

"Ali?" Sam called, sounding alarmed, from behind the curtain.

"Sorry." I moaned between the awful heaves.

Sam just sighed and finished quickly, wrapping a towel around himself before stepping out of the shower and walking right past me as I knelt on the tile. "Don't make a habit of doing this."

I looked up as he shut the door to the bathroom, sealing me inside, alone. _He_ is _mad at me. I knew it. Well what the hell am I supposed to do now? I thought they wanted me here. Why didn't they just let me go if they didn't want me here?_

My knees were glued to the bathroom floor for at least ten more minutes before someone knocked at the door. "Li? You in there?"

"Yeah, Dean. I think I got sick overnight. I've been puking."

"Can I come in?"

"Go for it."

Dean opened the door slowly and flinched at the awful scent that I'd already gotten used to. It had come from my stomach, after all. "Where's the fan in here?"

"Doesn't work. I tried."

Dean just closed his eyes and sighed. "Think I'll shell out a little more for a nicer room next time. So you think you got sick, huh? Any blood in there?" When I couldn't answer- another round of heaves had taken priority- Dean investigated for himself. "Nope." He pressed his hand to the back of my neck, then my forehead. "You're warm, but no fever. Congratulations. You have a bug. Hey, listen. Me and Sam are headin' out to-"

I spilled again and I could have sworn I saw Dean gag a little. "Sorry." I panted as soon as I could.

"We'll be back before lunch, okay? Just sit tight, relax for a while. Watch bad daytime TV. But don't leave the room, okay? I don't want to chase you down again." Dean said, turning to leave. I heaved again and when I came up, he was crouched down beside me, putting a cold washcloth on the back of my neck. "I'm glad we found you, Li. I know I didn't seem thrilled in the woods or back here after we brought you home, but Sam was freaking out all day and I wasn't too jolly either. That whole experience was rough on all of us. We need you around. You're family. No matter how you feel, or what you think about us, or what you think we think of you, _we want you here_. Got it?"

All I could do was nod as my eyes got blurry with tears. "Okay."

"Can I trust you to stay put while we're gone?"

"Yes. I think I learned my lesson." Part of me was surprised that they were willing to leave me alone so soon after yesterday's adventure, but part of me was grateful for it too. They still trusted me. I didn't think I deserved it. I looked away and willed the annoying tears to back off.

The hug was what sent me over the edge. Even as smelly and sweaty and sticky as I was, Dean still wrapped me in his arms for a few seconds before he stood. "You want anything before we go? Water, meds, a blanket so you can camp out in here?"

"I'm good." I sniffed my nose and smiled at him through tear-blurred eyes. "Thanks."

"We'll bring back some grub, okay? Stay in the room."

"Promise."

* * *

I stayed in the room until they got back. The episode stopped about ten minutes after I heard the front door shut. I got up and brushed my teeth. Drank some water. Huddled inside a mountain of blankets because I realized I was _actually_ getting sick.

It's true what they say. Nothing good plays on daytime television.

"Lucy, I'm home!" Dean called as they returned hours later. He set a big paper bag on the table while Sam closed the door.

"'m not a housewife." I grumbled from my nest, turning the TV off.

"Still not feelin' well?" Dean asked, frowning. He took a few Styrofoam boxes and a bowl out of the bag, setting them on the table carefully.

"Does it look like I feel well?"

"I guess not. Sammy's got the sniffles too."

"Don't remind me." Sam groaned, passing between Dean and I to get to the bathroom. Seconds later, I heard some poor tissue get slimed.

"So where'd you go?" I asked, pulling the blankets tighter around myself. The breeze from the door might have been miniscule, but it was chilly enough to make me shiver.

"The hardware store. Bought a crap-ton of spotlights. Y'know, those huge flashlights? We took 'em to the club and hopefully got rid of the jinx once and for all. That club has more rooms than I thought. You know they had a real piano just shoved in the corner of some storage room? Must've had it on the stage at some point. I can tell they really classed up the joint when they canned it." After throwing the paper bag away, Dean sat on the edge of my bed and palmed my forehead. I glared at him indignantly. "Can't tell if you have a fever or you're just overheating because of all this." He dropped his hand and tugged at one of the blankets.

I hissed at him and nudged him away with a blanket covered elbow. "It's my blanket fort. Get your own. Did you finish the case without me?" I let a pout color my face and heaved a fold of blanket onto my head.

"Yes. Does that really upset you?" Dean asked skeptically. "I didn't think it would, considering what happened yesterday."

I sank further into my bundle and refused to look at him.

"I'm sick of this place. Can't shake the feeling that something really bad is about to go down and it's buggin' me. I want to leave as soon as possible." Dean said. "Before anything else happens."

"Sorry." I mumbled, feeling the shame color my cheeks once again.

"Come eat. Brought you some soup and saltines."

We ate in silence. Sam wouldn't even look at me, which had me on edge after the first few minutes. I was sure he was angry, but even when he'd been pissed at me before, he never just ignored me. He always tried to work it out or at least talk with me about it. This new behavior left me feeling guilty and, well, like a piece of shit. Not to mention that he was as sick as I was all because he jumped into a freezing river to save _me._ Guess I'd crossed a bigger line than I thought by running off.

"Alright, kids. Time to load up." Dean said, tossing his burger's wrapper at the trashcan and missing. He mumbled something like 'come on' and picked the thing up, putting it in the can. "I want to be gone in an hour."

"Dean, we don't even know if the light thing worked." Sam said, turning in his chair to face Dean, who had already gotten his duffel out.

"If it didn't, we'll hear about in a couple weeks."

"So you're just going to let more people die?" Sam asked, suddenly seeming more testy than usual. His accusation was already heated; in the past, it had taken Dean and I tag-teaming efforts to get him this worked up. Yesterday must have been worse for him than I imagined.

"No, Sam. I'm going to keep you two alive and hope that our solution worked. This town has tried to kill both of you _several times_. I can't risk staying any longer. I won't."

Sam glared at him. "So our lives are worth more than those people at the club? Is that what you're saying?"

"I can count my whole family on one hand, Sam!" Dean shouted, surprising both Sam and I. I choked on a noodle, but recovered quickly enough. "I'm not losing you two. I'm exhausted and this city won't stop screwing us. We can't take much more. So shut the hell up and get packed."

"No." Sam growled. He stood and grabbed his coat and gun. "I'm going to make sure it's safe for people to be in that club. Like we should be doing right now."

"Why is this so important to you, huh? Both of you are sick. Both of you have almost died at least once in the past week. Both of you were drugged _at that club._ We did what we could, Sam. We can monitor the situation from the bunker. If we find anything, we'll call another hunter to fix it." Dean moved and held the door closed as Sam went to open it. "I mean it, Sam. We're leaving."

"Then I'll see you in a few days." Sam said, jerking the door open against Dean's hand and slamming it behind him.

Dean and I stared at the cracked old thing for a few seconds. I was shocked. Dean seemed furious.

"He's not usually like this when he's sick." I said quietly, trying not to trip another shouting episode. In all honestly, Dean was scary when he wanted to be. And now my stomach was turning, revolting in time with every third beat or so of my heart. Not the best time to be yelled at or frightened.

"He's usually not like this at all." Dean went to his bag and retrieved his laptop. He sat opposite me at the table and started typing away. " _He's_ supposed to be the level headed one. Something's wrong. I don't think we got rid of that jinx in him. I'm pretty sure it's out of the club, but it's still in Sam."

"How can you be sure?" I asked nervously, standing with two blankets around me to hover over Dean's shoulder as he typed. "What if he's just really into this case?"

"He wanted to leave. Yesterday."

"What? He wanted to leave town without…?"

"After we got back. You were in the shower. He wanted to leave right then and there, as soon as you were out, but I told him you two needed real, actual rest after that dunk. And now he won't go." Dean frowned at his screen. "I'm gonna call Bobby. See what he has to say."

* * *

Bobby was just as confused as we were. "The details all pointed to an erebus jinx. You sure you followed all the rules that night?"

"Yes. Maybe there was something we missed. Some clue, or a rule that we couldn't find." Dean said, pacing the length of the room as I watched from the edge of the bed, still wrapped in blankets. Somehow, listening to the speakerphone and watching Dean go back and forth, back and forth was making me motion sick.

"Ain't no more to that jinx, kid. All the procedures were laid out plain and clear in some goat-skin manuscript I found online. You musta done it wrong." Bobby said with a sigh. "Go get 'im and try again tonight. Before he beats the hell outta some poor sucker and transfers that menace to a civilian."

"Fine. Thanks, Bobby." Dean tossed the phone onto the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Guess we gotta hunt him down now."

"He'll probably be at the club, right? Wasn't that where he was going?"

"Club doesn't open for a couple more hours. Unless he broke in again. Might be our best bet right now." Dean grabbed his coat, gun, and a single knife before turning to me. I swear he almost laughed at my blanket laden form. "Well hop to it, Diglett. We're going on a wild Sam chase."

* * *

"I don't think he's here." I mumbled again as I shuffled along behind Dean, shivering every now and then.

"I heard you the first time." Dean replied, quietly opening yet another door in the long hallway. He went inside and I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing had gone wrong yet in our sweep of the club. The alarm on the side door didn't trip, no doors were locked inside, and no one seemed to be around. No one at all.

"Maybe we should call him again."

Dean emerged from the room and shut the door quietly. "He won't answer."

"But maybe he will this time."

"Doubt it. He was pretty miffed when he left." Into the next room he went. This must have been an office building or something back in the day. All these little rooms had one window each, which was generally covered with a cloth or newspaper to hide the piles of old decorations or equipment or supplies the club used. It was like a rat's nest of creepy masks, old disco balls, and mismatched glasses.

We walked along, checking every room we came to. Well, Dean checked the rooms. I just tried not to sneeze too loud. I wasn't even sure why he brought me; it's not like I could help very much seeing as I was shivering in my jacket and starting to feel an all over ache that made moving difficult. He probably just didn't want to give me another chance to run.

The near silence in the building was unnerving and every sniffle or cough sounded like a crack of thunder in my ears. "Sorry." I whispered after a particularly loud sneeze.

"Nobody's here anyway, Li. It's not like anyone can hear us to call the cops." We finally finished the hallway and trekked up a long set of rickety old stairs, finding our way into a pretty large banquet hall. It looked to be about the size of the club room below us, which made sense. The room was mostly empty, with a few piles of wooden folding chairs set against the walls and a few closed doors standing in stark contrast to the beige wallpaper.

"I didn't even know this was here." I said, flinching as my voice, quiet though it was, echoed in the cavernous area.

"Yeah, we missed it at first. Figured there was just a crawl space attic over the auditorium. Sam and I found it this morning. Piano's through there, by the way. It's another room full of junk. I don't recommend going in there." Dean pointed to a door at the end of the room, near the corner. "They took the legs off to get it in there. Sat it up against the wall. Thing's probably worth good money, even if it's scratched now."

"Shame." I muttered, following Dean through a different door.

For the next half hour, we searched the building, coming up with nothing more than a few fake plants and a small army of dust bunnies. "Where else would he go?" Dean muttered to himself.

"We haven't checked the main area yet." I said with a shrug. "He could be in there."

"I doubt it. We took down the cameras earlier for just long enough to get rid of the jinx. That room is the only place that has cameras. Sam wouldn't just waltz in there. And we checked the control room when we got here, Li. Those cameras were working. It was just too dark in there to see anything."

"Maybe that's why he didn't turn the lights on."

"We'll look there _quickly_ , but then we head out. He may have gone back to the motel." Dean said, turning on his heel and walking straight for the stairs.

I almost had to jog to keep up. "How do we know if he's in there with the lights off? We can't just turn 'em on and get him caught on camera."

"Should be absolute silence in there. We'll just listen for a while."

The corridor past the stairs dumped us in the main lobby. I shivered hard at the sight of those big black doors, now looming taller than ever in the eerie quiet.

Laughter.

The sound of a woman laughing came through the cracks from the auditorium. Someone was definitely in there. "Who is that?" I hissed, coming to stand close behind Dean, who had his ear pressed to the crack between the doors.

"I don't know."

The woman started saying something. At least two people then, if she was talking to a person. I hoped she was talking to another person and not something with fangs or venom or psychological jinx shit.

Sam. She was talking to Sam. I knew as soon as he started speaking, but I couldn't make out the words. He didn't sound like he was in trouble. In fact, it sounded like he was having a good time in there. In the dark. With a woman. Alone.

No matter how much of an ass Sam had been today, he still meant a lot to me. Jealousy burned hot in my chest and I growled a little, unable to stop the sound before it escaped.

"I'm sure it's not like that, Li." Dean said softly, glancing at me over his shoulder. "Sam's a good guy. He'd never do that to you."

We listened for a few more minutes, but the conversation seemed to be very even tempered. So he wasn't being interrogated. He wasn't being actively tortured. No one was gloating over his restrained body or putting a curse on him. _So what the hell is he doing?_

"We need to go in there." I whispered. "I want to know what the hell's going on."

"I don't know if that's the best idea-"

"Can we erase the database if I turn the lights on? Get rid of the footage?" I asked quickly.

"I- I think so, but we shouldn't have to- Li, wait." Dean tried to hold me back but I was already through the doors.

The voices stopped at the squeak of the hinge. I could feel Dean's presence behind me. At least he'd followed me in.

Then I was blinded by more light than I ever thought this room's system could produce. When my eyes finally adjusted, I could see every booth, every table, every stain on the floor, every hokey piece of decoration, and Sam. On a barstool, with a glass in his hand, talking to the bartender who was always there when we came.

"Who do we have here?" The woman asked, looking us up and down like pieces of meat while her hand lingered on the light switch behind the bar.

"Stay close." I heard Dean breathe, the words just loud enough for me to hear. He moved to stand beside me, even a little in front of me, but not hiding me in any way. There was no way I wanted to be hidden. Sam needed to see me. He needed to know what he was doing.

Sam locked eyes with Dean and left the barstool. "Did you follow me?" He asked, sounding more agitated and aggressive with every step he took toward us.

"What else were we supposed to do, Sam?" Dean snapped. "You ran off. We don't abandon each other; we go searchin'. Done it before and we'll do it again. You can't just leave."

"I don't want you here." Sam came to stop just out of arm's reach in front of Dean. "And I don't want to deal with _her_ ever again."

I'd never been privy to a glare as hard and merciless as the one Sam sent past Dean, directly at me. A numb kind of stillness fell over my entire body and my jaw fell slack. _The truth comes out. It's Dean who wanted me back. Sam… Sam just didn't have a choice. He lied to me and led me on and now- now they're arguing. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, damn it!_

"What the hell's wrong with you, Sam? You told me you love her; you jumped into a frickin' _river of ice_ to get her out! And that was only yesterday. How long have you known that woman? Like a week? No way am I gonna believe you moved on overnight, not you. Not Mr. Saving Up. Not Mr. Bleeding Heart. Not _my_ brother." Dean looked over Sam's shoulder at the woman behind the bar. "Was this you? Did you do this to him?" I'd heard that tone before. He used it when we fought about that last test in the woods, and when I almost got myself killed clearing out Bobby's house. That was his dangerous tone. He meant business. And judging by how he acted when it was used on me, this woman wouldn't see the outside world ever again.

"I only helped Sam figure out what he really wanted." The woman said with a lighthearted shrug. "Guess the little angel-face over there wasn't what he thought she was."

"You're gonna let some broad ruin the relationship you've waited _months_ to have?" Dean moved further in front of me, blocking my view of the bartender and most of my view of Sam. His voice dropped to a level that I was pretty sure the bartender couldn't hear from where she leaned against the back of the bar a few yards away. "What happened to 'I'll never let her feel alone again'? Huh? Or- or 'I'll take care of you no matter what'? Li's not just some toy, Sam. You don't have to stay in a relationship you hate, but at least tell her before you run off with another woman. This- what you're doing now- is a shit move."

"What are they saying, agápi mou?" The woman called, sounding just as laid back as she usually was when the club was open and bursting with half sloshed party-goers.

"Nothing important." Sam continued to glare at Dean, but now his fists were balling and I could tell he was gearing up for this conversation to get violent.

"Do you know them, then?" She asked, letting her head rest on her hand as she watched from her position behind the tall sides of the bar.

"My brother and his pet." Sam said, breaking his glare to look me up and down before scoffing and turning to walk back to his new girl. "They were just leaving."

"Like hell we are." Dean barked, crossing his arms. "If we're leaving, you're coming with us." Sam didn't stop, or even turn. He sat right back on the barstool and took a drink.

"Oh, agápi, don't go. Don't let them take you." The woman seemed like she was trying to act distressed. But it was obviously an act. Her voice wasn't nervous, her posture was still easy, and her eyes never veered from Sam. "Maybe we should get rid of them. So you can be with me forever."

All of a sudden Sam stood, eyes fixed directly on Dean.

Dean started, taking a few steps back and pushing me as he went. "Shit. Li, run."

I did as I was told, but I only made it as far as the black doors before I heard the unmistakable sounds of a very physical altercation. Whipping around, I focused just in time to see Dean pin Sam to the ground. Already Dean's nose was bleeding and there was an angry looking red mark on Sam's cheek. "Dean?" I yelled, unsure of exactly what was going on. This obviously wasn't natural. That woman wasn't human; no one could make Sam attack his brother like that. "What do I do?"

"Bronze!" Dean shouted back just before Sam kneed him, flipping him over and onto his back.

I raced through the doors and down the hall. "Bronze bronze bronze. What the hell is made of bronze in the twenty first century?!" I was hoping that was what Dean meant. That I needed to find something bronze to kill the thing, which now that I thought about it, was sounding more and more like a siren.

 _What did Bobby say? He told me, he taught me all this. Uh… daggers, obviously, and zippers, but I don't think I could do much with a frickin' zipper. Cymbols? Yeah, but I didn't see any in any of the rooms._ I wasn't sure where I was running to. I hadn't seen any musical equipment during our search earlier-

No.

The piano.

Low pitch piano strings were still made of bronze.

I sprinted up the stairs to that banquet hall from earlier and tore the door to the closet open. At the back was the piano Dean mentioned, leaned against the wall and haphazardly surrounded by cheap junk and boxes upon boxes of stuff I didn't care about. Sturdy stuff, apparently, because I made my way over most of it without a hitch, only falling once when a box collapsed under my weight.

The hinged top of the old instrument was held down by the odds and ends that engulfed it. I started throwing things out of the way, careful to keep them away from my exit route. It took forever, at least to me. Dean and Sam were fighting, one of them to the death, and if I didn't get my shit together, I could lose one of them.

Or both of them.

 _Don't think too much about that._

I ripped open the top of the instrument as soon as I could, shoving yet more debris out of the way as did so. "Low pitched ones. The thick ones- get a couple, girl, just in case." I coached myself as I pulled out my pocket knife. "Please let this work."

Surprisingly, the knife severed the metal wire after only a few seconds of struggling. Some rust had accumulated on a few of the other strings, not the bronze ones obviously- bronze doesn't rust-, so I figured the piano wasn't stored in the best conditions. Long story short, the wires had become brittle. I took three of them before I practically leapt from the room and nearly fell down the stairs.

They were still at it when I returned, but I was on the floor before I knew what was happening.

"You should've run when you had the chance." The bartender stood over me, grinning in a very unsettling way.

 _Bitch waited behind the door to ambush me._ As soon as she raised her foot to kick me, I took out her supporting ankle, dropping her as I scrambled to collect the wires I had dropped and use them.

"No!" Sam's voice echoed in the room.

"Hurry up, Li. Kill it." Dean grunted as he body checked Sam out of sight around the corner of the bar.

I grabbed the thickest wire and turned on my knees, only to be knocked back onto my hands by the woman's right hook. "Should've tried harder to kill you when I had the chance." She growled. "That much sedative should've dropped you dead in two hours!" She shouted, lunging at me again. This time, I was ready. She went to slam her fist into my head on the floor, but I jerked away and her hand connected with a gross purple stain on the ground. I had the wire around her neck before she could get back up.

"Let him go." I hissed into her ear, pulling the wire tight around her throat. Little rivulets of blood were starting to appear both on my hands, where the wire was wrapped around and around to make a steady hold, and on her neck, where the ridges on the string were digging in. I wasn't sure if this was how a siren needed to be killed; it was probably a bronze dagger to the heart, but the string made a satisfying sizzle against her skin nonetheless.

As she struggled, trying first to grip the wire then to get a hold of me, I listened for any sign that the guys were still mostly okay. There were no more sounds echoing in the room. No skin on skin impacts, no pained grunts, no strangled growls, no scuffling. Just silence.

"If either of them dies, I will torture you. I will give you the slowest death you can imagine. Draw it out for days, so you'll have a glimpse of what I'll live with the rest of my life." I said plainly into her ear, not trying to hide my voice. In fact, some of it echoed back to me from across the room. "You might think I look like an angel-face, but I can assure you, that won't last long."

She stopped struggling and went limp when I stopped speaking, but I could still see the pulse in her neck. My gaze was fixed elsewhere, however, when the sound of footsteps tore through the space. A single set of footsteps.

It was Sam, bloody and bruised, shirt torn, knuckles a dark red and still dripping. I waited a few seconds while he walked closer, slowly.

Dean didn't appear.

And Sam looked murderous.

* * *

 **A/N: This is torture. I know. You'll hate me for the next chapter. See you Monday...**


	42. Violently

**A/N: Vivi here! If you haven't followed me or this story, you may be surprised to find that I posted mid-week last week. Follow so you can keep up to date on my sometimes impulsive posting times.**

 **Violence warning for this chapter (in case you didn't read the title). Also, some rough POV changes are coming up. Just so you are aware.**

 **Get ready for a long chapter. And probably some not so great feelings.**

 **On a lighter note I got a lot of great responses to the last chapter, but it seems some are unclear about the timeline. Let me clear it up for you; I know it's tricky to remember all the details (I have trouble too sometimes). Ali is just 12 weeks pregnant in chapter 40. The first trimester goes until the end of the 12th week, and women don't usually start to show any belly until 14 or 15 (this is an average, it's actually really variable depending on a lot of things). That's why the guys haven't noticed. Also, morning sickness tends to go away after the first trimester. She's trying hard to hide her clues, too. If anybody is confused on something (pertaining to this story) let me know! I'll clear it up for you, no problem.**

 **And for those of you who are dying for the big reveal, I'm sorry about this next chapter. I'm sure it wasn't what you were expecting. But don't worry: the warm fuzzies do come back eventually… Maybe...**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"If either of them dies, I will torture you. I will give you the slowest death you can imagine. Draw it out for days, so you'll have a glimpse of what I'll live with the rest of my life." I said plainly into her ear, not trying to hide my voice. In fact, some of it echoed back to me from across the room. "You might think I look like an angel-face, but I can assure you, that won't last long."_

 _She stopped struggling and went limp when I stopped speaking, but I could still see the pulse in her neck. My gaze was fixed elsewhere, however, when the sound of footsteps tore through the space. A single set of footsteps._

 _It was Sam, bloody and bruised, shirt torn, knuckles a dark red. I waited a few seconds while he walked closer, slowly. Dean didn't appear._

 _And Sam looked murderous._

* * *

"Sam, it's me." I said loudly, tugging tighter on the wire, hoping to slow him down. "It's Ali."

"Doesn't matter who you are." He said, wiping a smear of blood from his nose as he came closer than I was comfortable with.

"I'll kill her." I said, pulling the wires still deeper into the siren's neck.

Sam didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed my hair and pulled, tugging me away from the siren, who was now unconscious. She fell to the floor, unmoving. I screamed, trying to untangle his fingers and run before he got the chance to do any real damage; the burning pain on my scalp would fade quickly enough. He could take more than one life if he went far enough and I was desperate to save my baby. What could be our baby...

He threw me to the ground in front of him. I tried to get up but planted one boot on my hip and held me down, on my side, crushing my pelvis more every second. "You're a real pain, y'know that?" He removed his foot, much to my relief.

Then slammed it into my arm before it collided with my chest, sending me back another few inches across the filthy floor. I tried to stand again, but he came right back, landing a powerful blow to my upper abdomen that time.

The tattoo pulled. "Sam, please, you can fight this. Just stop!" I gasped, tightening my arms around my chest when breathing became difficult.

"Every time I think I have something good, you go and screw it up."

This time, I saw his leg move and balled in on myself, abandoning all hope of getting up while he was like this. Maybe the siren would bleed out and die before Sam killed me.

Before Sam killed the baby.

"We found the bunker. You came and put us through hell with panic attacks and all your pathetic triggers. It was like walking on eggshells _in my own home._ " A foot to the shins this time, pulled tight against my belly. "Cas made a tiny mistake and then you had to go and have a breakdown every time he came around. He was attacked by demons because he couldn't stay with us and he's still not back to normal." My arms, where they were trying to protect my head. "I used to be one of Dean's top priorities. Now he'll go to the ends of the earth to find _you_ when _you're_ in trouble." A strong kick right to my knees, aimed in such a way that it forced my legs down a few inches.

"I loved you, and then you ran from me."

My tattoo was on fire a split second after his steel toed boot felt like it bruised my spine. From the front. _No no no this isn't happening- Cas? Cas, we're in Orem, in the-_

"And y'know what?" Sam knelt beside me, his now blurry form hovering just between me and the light above as I panted, struggling for air. "I like this new freedom."

"Sam, don't do this, I'm preg-"

I blacked out after he fisted the hair on the side of my head and cracked my skull between the floor and his bloody palm.

* * *

Dean Winchester lay in a puddle of his own blood, which was slowly gushing from his nose. In the background, beyond the ringing in his ears, he could hear someone talking.

Sam. Sam was talking.

And dull pounding sounds, like someone was punching a pillow, or-

The sickening crack brought Dean into reality. He sat up, ignoring the pounding in his head. Looking around, he could feel his adrenaline kick in again.

Sam. Siren. Li.

Li was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the siren.

But there was Sam, standing just around the corner of the bar, smirking down at something on the floor. Dean stood, hoping for the best.

Dean knew better than that. He found his adopted sister on the floor. And she wasn't moving. "No no no…" His chest clenched up and a wild rush of panic flooded his already foggy head.

Sam had moved to kneel beside the siren and was trying to unwind a strand of wire from her neck. _Piano wire. Smart thinking, Li. Just gimma a sec to put this case to rest and we can get you some help._

It didn't take much of a shove to introduce Sam's head to the wall in front of him. Taking full advantage of his dazed state, Dean pushed him aside and took either end of the bronze cord.

He'd never get used to the way heads rolled like lopsided watermelons.

This time, though, he didn't even pause to watch. Immediately, Dean turned to Li, who still hadn't moved. He checked her over, finding a horrifying number of injuries. Where she wasn't bloody, she was bruised or swelling. Her arms had rips in them, stripes of damaged skin as wide as a shoe. Pressing gently on her back, Dean found more than a few broken ribs. "Li? Hey, c'mon, wake up." Dean moved to touch her cheek, not wanting to touch anything more until he knew how bad her wounds were. "You gotta wake up."

It took a long time for Dean to realize that she wasn't breathing quite as well as she should have been. Her lips were already taking on a shade of baby blue. "No, no, c'mon. Hey!" Dean shouted into her ear, hoping to startle her into consciousness.

It didn't work.

"You can't go now. Not like this." Dean pleaded softly, patting the cheek that was less bruised. "Just come back. Just come back to us."

A hand landed on Dean's shoulder and he turned to see Sam holding his cell phone to his ear. "Yeah, that place."

"Back off." Dean growled, shoving at Sam.

"We were attacked outside and we came in- the door was unlocked."

"Li, open your eyes."

"No, I didn't see where he went. Did you call the ambulance yet?"

"Please."

"I have to go." Sam returned and knelt at Ali's head, brushing some hair out of her face and feeling his breath catch in his throat when it streaked blood across her porcelain cheeks. Sam remembered everything. In vivid detail. He remembered every reasoning behind his actions. All the blows he landed on Dean and Ali. It was a wonder Dean was even conscious right now. But he was damn glad he was.

Dean had been the only thing standing between Ali and certain death at Sam's own hands.

"S-she's pregnant." The words spilled from Sam's mouth as the realization hit him. _She told me she was pregnant. That was why she tried to run. The pills didn't work and she thought I wouldn't want it. I- I just killed my own kid._

"What?" Dean snapped, looking to his little brother and resisting the urge to push him away again. It was very obvious that the siren was dead and that Sam seemed to be acting without aggression now, but Dean was still on an adrenaline high. It was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that Sam wasn't going to slug him. His brother was himself again, if a little more bloody and a lot more panicked than usual.

"She told me. Right before I knocked her out." Sam's voice was little more than a whisper. He moved to try and wipe some of the blood off his face, but it just smeared and stained his jacket. Sam didn't notice.

Dean's eyes widened and he carefully pushed Li's legs away from her belly, trying to avoid hurting her. She was as easy to move as a ragdoll. Underneath her shirt, he found a bruise, or a big pool of blood under her skin, he wasn't sure. But either way, it was in a bad place. Especially if she was pregnant. "Did you hit her here?" Dean asked, struggling to keep his voice even. Then he remembered the dull thudding sounds he heard when he first came to. "You kicked her?!"

"I killed our kid, Dean!" Sam sobbed, eyes wide and near hysteria. "And I said things- things I didn't mean. Thoughts that never crossed my mind. How did this happen? I- I was fine yesterday-"

"Go hide the siren, Sam." Dean said evenly with a light shove to Sam's shoulder.

"But I need to-"

"Hide the fucking body, Sam." Dean growled. "You've done enough here."

Sam sobered up quickly, his sobs stunned into arrest and then reduced to the occasional hiccup or cough as he stood and went to work moving the body somewhere less conspicuous before the paramedics arrived.

* * *

No one told them anything.

The paramedics asked for her name, but the brothers only knew what hospital she was going to by the logo on the side of the ambulance as it sped away. They took her away, not letting either man ride in the vehicle with them. From what Dean could see just before the doors slammed shut, the frenzied activity would have been hindered by the presence of either Winchester.

The ride to the hospital was silent, aside from Sam's hiccups and the odd, strangled cough.

Dean didn't wait for Sam to get out of the car when they arrived at the ED. He ran in, straight to the reception desk. "Alberta Montgomery." He snapped at the older gentleman, who wore a volunteer badge that read Otis. "She was just brought in by ambulance. She's my sister."

In his time with the Orem City General's Volunteer Program, Otis had seen a lot of unnerving things. Kids coming in with broken limbs, adults having seizures in the lobby, more blood than he thought possible soaking a towel wrapped around this body part or that. The sight before him, however, may have been the one he would remember as having the most initial shock value. Usually the worst cases came in through the ambulance bay and Otis never even saw them. He saw their family members, but not the patients themselves. Any blood that came through the lobby doors was usually stemmed or at least covered by the time it arrived. The two men- big men, as Otis realized- who came in through his doors were bloody, broken, and bleeding. It was like they had made no attempt to stop the steady streams coming from noses, cuts on arms, damage to knuckles. The sight was enough to give Otis a bit of a shock, but he recovered quickly enough to understand what the one before him was saying.

"Hold on for just a second, let me see if she's in the system yet. And I'll need to see some ID before I tell you anything about her." Otis said, typing as he watched Sam come in. Concern was alight on his wrinkled face as he took in the young man, all red eyes and sniffles, nervous posture and blood. His shirt was torn and Otis was pretty sure that was blood matted into his hair.

"Right. Here." Dean produced an ID that Sam had crafted a few months ago; it was one of three Montgomery family ID's. Dean's was Nick. Sam had Mikey, and Ali had Alberta.

"Thank you." Otis took the ID and looked it over before writing the name on a 'Hello, My Name Is' sticker and giving both to Dean. "She's not in the system yet. You said she just came in?"

"Yeah, we followed the ambulance here." Dean said, ignoring Sam when he came to stand beside his big brother.

"I see. It'll be about fifteen minutes before she's in the computers and I can send you back. Or if you'd rather, I can check both of you boys in, have someone take a look at those wounds. I'm guessing bar fight?" Otis asked quietly, watching a drop of blood from the man's knuckle land on his desk.

"We got mugged." Dean said matter-of-factly, unable to keep the anger out of his tone.

"Oh, I apologize. I shouldn't have assumed. Uh, would you like to be checked in, or…?"

"We're here for our sister."

"Right. Understood. Please take a seat and I'll let you know as soon as she's cleared for visitors." Otis said gently, adopting a very calm persona that probably worked on a lot of frantic families who came into his ER.

It didn't work so well on Dean. "I need to go back there. They didn't get her medical information before they took off."

"I understand your urgency, son. I really do. Take a seat and I'll call back and let the nurses know you're here for Alberta. When they need information, they'll come get you, or call me to send you back." While he was talking he was eyeing Sam, who hadn't said a word so far, but looked near tears. Tears or unconsciousness. As a seasoned volunteer, Otis knew he had to stop him from making a scene if he could help it. They weren't the only ones in the ER. There was a woman and her son, who had his hand wrapped in a towel. A small group of women who were quietly comforting one of their members, who was doubled over in a chair cursing her kidneys for making stones again. And in the corner were two gentlemen, one looking about Otis' age and rubbing at his chest and shoulder, and the other young enough to be his son, looking worried.

Dean leaned in close, nearly disrupting the man's personal space. "She's pregnant." He hissed. "If they do _anything_ to hurt that kid, I'll sue this place for all it's worth." In reality, suing was about the last thing on his mind. He had much more physical coping mechanisms flashing through his head. All of them were felonies, at least. He didn't particularly care.

But Otis did. His eyes got wide and he picked up the phone, pressing a few buttons before going still. "Ophelia? Yes, it's Otis. I have family here for Alberta Montgomery. They have medical information that is very important for her case."

The long pause and poker face look on the volunteer had Dean preparing to break the glass sliding doors that led to the patient rooms in the ER and just find her himself.

All through this exchange, Sam had been having trouble understanding what was being said. He was disoriented, unsure as to where they were, but he knew whatever was going on was because he had hurt Ali. It was all Sam could do to ground himself to Dean and keep from sprinting out of the building, getting as far away from it as possible. As he had for years when he was little, Sam grabbed the sleeve of Dean's jacket and held on as he tried to make sense of the stressful and intimidating situation. He tried to keep his eyes focused for more than two seconds at a time but it was hard and he didn't know why. If he didn't count to eight with each breath he would start sobbing again, but it was hard to think about that when all he could see whenever he blinked was his own booted foot colliding with and sinking into Ali's soft stomach as she pleaded for him to stop. As she told him she was pregnant.

He could still feel it. The impact that very well might end up terminating two lives.

Dean noticed Sam holding onto him and shook his brother's hand off, glaring at him. On the drive over, Dean hadn't been able to bring himself to look at Sam, but now that he did he could tell Sam was close to passing out, or going into shock, or both. Guilt washed over the big brother and a tiny flame of protectiveness flared up, but he wasn't ready to deal with that kid just yet. _He should know how to take care of himself._

"Okay. Is family even allowed back there?" Otis asked quietly, trying not to sound incompetent in front of hospital patrons. "Thank you, Ophelia. Nassir is coming out? Okay… Okay, thank you so much." Otis hung up and turned to Dean, flinching a bit when he saw how pale the other man had gotten. "A nurse is coming out to get you. Alberta is on her way to the radiology department for a scan, but… the nurse I spoke with said she may go straight to the OR- the operating room. Things… as she put it, 'aren't looking good'. And I'm terribly sorry, but who is he?" The volunteer pointed at Sam, who was starting to shake ever so slightly, his breath getting shallower by the minute.

"'Aren't looking good'? What the hell does that mean?"

"This is a level III trauma center. I'm afraid we don't have many resources at our disposal, and if I interpreted the situation correctly, transfer of the patient may be too risky. She may not make the trip. We'll do what we can here; our physicians and nurses are very well trained, and we have a surgeon on call at all times. She might actually be here already for scheduled procedures." Otis tried to be as gentle as possible with the information, already having recognized that both men weren't exactly functioning well enough to fully understand what that meant. "Who is here with you? Do you know him?"

"This is, uh… o-our brother." Dean said, taking another look at Sam. Poor guy didn't even look like he even understood what the volunteer had said. Then again, Sam looked to be a few seconds away from a panic attack. "He, uh, saw the whole assault happen. Pretty shaken up, but he'll be fine." Dean clapped Sam on the back, trying to snap the kid out of whatever was going on in his head, but the action only served to make him gasp and fall into a violent coughing fit. Sam's eyes spilled over anew and the sobs started up again as soon as the coughing ended, but quietly, as Otis noted. Sam clamped his elbow down over his face, trying to not hyperventilate.

"Montgomery?"

* * *

"She's in the OR already, so you'll have to be fast. We're just waiting on our surgeon to finish up a gall bladder down the hall. Shouldn't be more than five minutes." Nassir said as he practically jogged through the back halls of the hospital. As many large facilities did, this hospital had a series of walkways that were off limits to the public, allowing quick and easy transport of patients from the ER to the OR, the radiology department, or to a set of staff only elevators. The halls tonight were only populated by a few powerwalking nurses, one very tired looking doctor, and a teen in a wheelchair with her ankle wrapped, grumbling as she emerged from the radiology department with a nurse's aide.

"How far is this place?" Dean muttered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Sam was still there and hadn't passed out on the floor yet.

"Right here." Nassir stopped at a set of wide, unmarked doors. He pressed his nurse's badge to a little gray square on the wall and the doors swung open, revealing another hallway, this one with three doors on one side and none on the other. "She's in the first room. There will be an anesthesiologist prepping her and probably a few trauma nurses setting up equipment. Try to stay out of the way. Someone will show you out when the surgeon arrives."

Dean nodded and went through the door labeled OR1, which Nassir used his badge to open for them. Sam's footsteps echoed hesitantly behind Dean's. This was both the last place and the only place Sam wanted to be. He wanted to be there for Ali, to make her feel better, but he also remembered everything that he'd done to her. It was _his fault_ she was here, about to go under the knife. So Sam compromised. He stood inside the room, but against the wall, where he could only see her bruised face, covered partly by an endotracheal tube stabilizing band.

"Who are you?" A nurse snapped when Dean went right up to the table they had Li laid out on. She was covered, decent at least, but as much skin as possible was exposed; obviously the ER team had done a good job of cataloging all her wounds, making sure none were missed. Her skin was dotted and streaked with purple marks coming from the marker wielding hand of a middle aged man who wore a 'Resident' badge. Dean could only assume those were going to be entry points for the surgeon.

"We're her brothers. No one asked us for her medical information. You-" Dean pointed aggressively at the resident, who finally looked up from his work. "You better be careful plannin' where that surgeon cuts her. She's pregnant and if _anything_ happens to the kid, you won't have a job for much longer."

The resident seemed surprised. "Natalie, why did we order a pregnancy test when the ER should have done a history with these guys?" He sounded almost half as upset as Dean was.

"They said they didn't have time. She's bleeding into her peritoneum and her organs could be damaged by that alone. I think they did the right thing, sending her in like this. We would've gotten the test back before Dr. P went in anyway." Natalie, an older nurse, said as she pulled several sealed sets of tools, mounds of gauze, and syringes with little vials from various cupboards. "She has a better chance here with us than she would have in there while they interrogated these two."

The resident, whose name was apparently James Samoon, sighed and pulled back the paper mask he had been wearing while drawing on Ali's skin. "Thank you for telling us. Is there anything else we should know? Any bleeding conditions, diabetes, allergies, previous trauma?"

Dean almost snorted a humorless laugh at that last one, but decided to appease the guy instead. "No, she's usually pretty healthy."

"Great. Well, you have about three minutes before we start the procedure. Make 'em count." James capped his marker and went to continue setting up the little mayo stand near the foot of the table with the supplies set out by Natalie.

Despair gripped Dean almost as hard as it had when it choked Sam. He pushed a short hair out of Li's face, only to have it fall right back down. Most of her hair was tied back already with a rubber band and there was a cap still in the package next to her head. That little brown strand was too short to make it into the bundle. Dean didn't know what else he could do; he felt helpless.

She had a tube down her throat. Wires and IVs sticking out of her and into her in at least four different places. Black marks staining her skin and spreading slowly, but visibly around her abdomen. Ugly blue lines and dots littered on good skin and bad, telling the surgeon where to start. Not one sign of life was evident in the woman before him. A machine breathed for her. She was perfectly still. Almost like she was just sleeping.

 _How did this happen?_ Sam wondered, feeling the whole world slow down to a grinding halt. _She trusted me. I thought she could trust me to keep her out of harm's way. And- and I_ became _harm's way. All because I couldn't spot a fucking siren. It was so clear! The bartender never left and the victims devoted their time to her, not the club. She poisoned them through their drinks. She chose her prey and used them until a better option came along. It was textbook. And I wasn't even the one to kill her. I may have killed the woman I love because I couldn't see past the poison. I was blinded by all the little frustrations that bitch of a monster threw into my head. I- I'm not strong enough to protect Ali. I never was._

 _She deserves better._

 _She'd be happier with Dean, if this pans out._

 _Maybe I should just disappear._

 _It's better that way._

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who had slid down the wall and was now staring lifelessly at the table, like he'd already pronounced her dead. _I don't have time to deal with you right now, Sam. Just keep it together for a few more minutes and you can break down in the car._

"I'm sorry." That was the first thing Sam had said since Dean told him to hide the body of the siren so the paramedics wouldn't freak. Turns out that would be the only thing Sam would say for a good long while.

"We're here, Li." Dean said quietly, hoping for even the twitch of an eyelid but knowing he would get no such reassurance. "Me and Sam, we're here and we're gonna be here when you get out, okay? We'll be there when you wake up. And when they say you can check out, we'll go home and- and stay there for a long time, so you can recover and get that little one settled again. We can get properly introduced then, right, kiddo?" Dean said, touching his fingertips ever so lightly to her belly.

He wanted to be a part of that. Part of raising the new life. He'd always wanted kids, but he never found the right girl and it was never a good time. Now wasn't a good time. Not with demons chasing them and both Winchesters on the verge of a breakdown. But it had already happened. The kid was already here, with them, in the flesh.

And they might lose both mother and child.

"You okay, son?" Natalie asked when she noticed Sam on the floor, leaning back against the wall with a blank look on his face and tears streaming freely. Sam just shook his head. "You prayin'?" Sam shook his head again, barely even registering the words the woman was saying. "Well you should be. She needs her guardian angel right about now."

 _Guardian angel- Cas?_ Sam's eyes grew wide before he slammed them shut. _Cas, Ali's hurt. We're in Orem City General, in operating room-_

Dean whipped around when he heard a woman yelp and a man start yelling out in the hall. Footsteps, several pairs, were heading their way, and fast.

And Dean forgot to bring the demon knife in with them. _Can this day just fucking give it a rest?_ He scrambled to find something, anything that might hold the demons at bay until he could come up with a plan. But of course, there is no rock salt in an operating room. And he was scaring the nurses and resident.

"Sir, you can't be back here! This is a restricted area." Some guy down the hall yelled. "All these doors are locked, you can't go anywhere. Just come with me and let the professionals work in peace. We can help you find whoever or whatever you're looking for at the front desk, okay? Sir-"

Sam didn't even flinch when the OR door's locking mechanism gave way and the metal thing swung open, slamming into the wall behind it.

Dean was psyching up to kill whatever walked through those doors one way or another- he'd scream an exorcism for the whole hospital to hear, dammit- but he froze up as soon as he saw the black hair, blue eyes, and furious expression. The door slammed shut of its own accord and someone was still yelling beyond it.

Cas snapped his fingers; Natalie, James, and the anesthesiologist, who were all clearly stunned by the sudden turn of events, fell to the floor, unconscious. Black smoke plumed from the mouth of the anesthesiologist, but if anyone noticed it, it wasn't their top priority. "Close your eyes." Cas barked as he moved quickly to the side of Ali's table.

Both brothers knew better than to hesitate when an angel said those words. Sam's eyes were still closed from earlier, but as soon as Dean's shut, a brilliant white light filled the room, accompanied by an earsplitting ring that got louder the longer Cas worked. Dean had to turn away; the light was even too bright for his closed eyes, and he needed his hands to cover his ears. The ring was deafening and he thought his eardrums would pop-

And then it was over. The ringing stopped. The light faded. Sam and Dean opened their eyes to see Cas leaning heavily on the table, his head hung low over Ali's body. She wasn't moving.

"Cas?" Dean whispered, looking nervously between the angel and the body.

Cas didn't reply. Instead, he touched Ali's shoulder, and the pair vanished.

* * *

 **A/N: Leave a review. See you Monday.**


	43. Into the Abyss

**A/N: Vivi here! Wasn't that some kind of cliffhanger? Whew, glad that's over. Well… this might be a cliffhanger too. You'll see. This chapter is very Sam-centric and basically four chapters in length because I promised myself that the whole experience that makes up the bulk of this chapter would be in one chapter. I enjoyed writing it; got to revisit some of my favorite scenes to make it just right. Probably why it's twelve hundred words. And why I'm posting it a day early. Sorry not sorry.**

 **That being said, hardly reviewed this before I posted it. Please pardon the spelling or grammar mistakes. Also, language warning.**

 **And just one more thing. I want to be real for a second. For those of you who have experienced a tragedy like miscarriage, I can't say that I completely understand what you went through. My best friend recently lost her first and it was a very dark time for all of us. Situations like these are not to be taken lightly. With that in mind, I chose to use pregnancy as a feature in my plotline because of its soaring highs and devastating lows. It was never my intention to drag up painful memories. I hope you can enjoy this fic for just what it is: fiction. I can't give away the plot, but I will say that story wraps up eventually. There's just a lot of… emotion in between then and now.**

 **Love,**

 **Vivi**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _Dean had to turn away; the light was even too bright for his closed eyes, and he needed his hands to cover his ears. The ring was deafening and he thought his eardrums would pop-_

 _And then it was over. The ringing stopped. The light faded. Sam and Dean opened their eyes to see Cas leaning heavily on the table, his head hung low over Ali's body. She wasn't moving._

 _"Cas?" Dean whispered, looking nervously between the angel and the body._

 _Cas didn't reply. Instead, he touched Ali's shoulder, and the pair vanished._

* * *

"Cas?" Dean said a bit more loudly, looking around as if the angel had simply moved to another place in the room. "Cas?!"

Sam let his head fall into his hands as he listened to his big brother fall into a panic, praying aloud to Cas, begging him to come back and tell them what was going on. _She's actually gone this time. Really, truly gone._ The numbness that fell over Sam was suffocating. He could no longer connect with the outside world. He knew Dean was talking, yelling now, but he couldn't understand what the words were. Someone else was pounding on the door to the room, creating an irregular, echoing thump in the small space. More than one voice was calling through the doorway now, but Sam didn't care.

They'd lost Ali. He and Dean had lost yet another member of their family; two, if the baby had survived the attack. Sam knew already that they'd have to move on eventually and that was what was killing him. He wasn't sure he could move on anymore. It got harder every time and it felt like this time would be the one to break him.

Because this was all his fault.

"Sam, we gotta get outta here, man." Dean said, ignoring the burning in his eyes as he crouched beside his brother, shaking his shoulder.

Sam gave no response because he really didn't even know Dean was there.

"Sam, c'mon. We're no good to anyone in a jail cell." Dean pleaded, having given up on Cas for the moment. "Just move, man, I can't carry you out of this place. _We have to go._ "

Dean jumped when a rough hand landed on his shoulder.

Sam didn't even notice his brother being taken away.

 _It's better this way._ The phrase just kept repeating itself in his head, taking on new voices every few repetitions. His own, then Ali's, then Dean's, then Cas'. Sam was starting to believe it. Ali wouldn't suffer anymore. She couldn't get hurt again, or have to mourn the loss of another child. She could be with her kids and her husband in Heaven. All the times she'd spoken of her old family she'd had nothing but good things to say. Mark was a man among men, steady and understanding, supporting her dreams every step of the way. Kole, who would have been her firstborn, had never known violence or anger before he was killed by Francesca. And now this baby, Ali's second, this child already knew pain, trauma, panic, fear. All because of Sam. But the kid would get to be with his or her mother forever in Heaven. _It's better this way._

"It's time to go." Another voice tried to break through to him, but it barely registered in his mind. The operating room was bright. And then it was dark.

* * *

One deep breath. That was all it took for Sam to figure out where he was. The bunker. Musty, cozy, familiar.

Opening his eyes, Sam found himself in the hallway to the bedrooms. He was standing, but he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. Everything looked normal, looked right. There was nothing weird going on, save the fact that Sam was wearing red pajama pants and a tee shirt now. The bunker was silent and still.

A soft tickle of a noise floated to Sam's ears from down the hall. He found himself walking towards it almost instinctually, like it was calling to him specifically. There was a primal _need_ to find it. Though the hall was darkened, it wasn't black like it usually was at night. A small slit of light illuminated the hall from under the door to one of the bedrooms.

 _Ali's room._ Sam realized, picking up speed. The noise got louder the closer he came to the door and he realized it was Ali. And she was crying. Her anguished sobbing was hushed, like she didn't want anyone to hear her. Sam opened the door anyway.

She was just a lump under a pile of blankets. Sam recognized the green one from when they'd first found Dean de-aged, but it wasn't stained with blood anymore. It looked almost new. And Ali's mattress and bed frame were missing. She was laying on a small cot in the middle of the undecorated, unloved room. _Something's not right._ Sam thought, looking around as he listened to Ali's sobs get softer. He closed the door, knowing that he was in the right room.

Turning, he saw that the nail where she usually hung her ugly pink polka dot robe was gone. There wasn't even a little nail hole punched in the solid wood door. With suspicion alight in Sam's eyes, he walked slowly to the side of Ali's cot, sitting in a chair that was already pulled up close.

 _What the hell is going on?_ He wondered, redoubling his efforts to remember how he got into the hall in the first place. There was nothing.

"Ali?" Sam whispered softly. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

Ali didn't respond. She didn't move, but simply continued to sob quietly from beneath the blankets where she was hidden from view.

"You've got to tell me what happened, Ali. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." Sam leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "If this is about the other day, I'm sorry. I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry." When she didn't respond for a second time, Sam let his head fall into his hands. All of this was so confusing. Everything was different and he couldn't figure out why. But Ali was probably still upset about the pills. He didn't know how long ago that was now, he couldn't remember coming back to the bunker, but it was the only logical thing for her to be crying about at the moment. They'd moved past the whole running away thing pretty quickly and Sam thought she had every intention of staying after their little riverside heart to heart. Still, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that she was upset about the pills. He'd forced that on her and that might have been why she ran in the first place.

"I- I'm a little lost here, Ali. I don't know what's going on." Sam said quietly, looking back to the shuddering lump. "Just talk to me. Please."

Reaching over and lifting a corner of the blanket proved to be a bad idea. Ali let out a strangled scream and jerked the blankets back down, curling tighter into a ball and making the whole cot shake.

 _Her hair is brown._ Sam sat back after the shock of the scream wore off, utterly confused. _And long_. In the brief instant he'd been able to see her, Ali proved to be much different from what she usually looked like. Well, from what Sam could remember. Back in Orem.

Ali hadn't had long hair since the police almost caught her when she took tiny Dean to a doctor's appointment. She'd cut it off after hearing the radio alert with her description. Sam should know; he'd almost shot her in the kitchen when he didn't recognize her from behind.

And her hair hadn't been fully brown since Francesca dyed it bright blonde the last time she had control of Ali's body. Ali hated the color, but she didn't want to dye it again. She'd decided to grow it out and just cut the blonde parts off when her hair was long enough.

But hair doesn't grow that fast.

And wood doesn't heal.

The door opened and Sam whipped around, shocked that there wasn't even a knock.

"Couldn't sleep?" Dean asked as he lightly kicked the door shut behind him. His arms were full of a strange variety of things: boxes of tissues, two towels, a box of saltine crackers, and a few bottles of water. What was even weirder was the way Dean looked. His hair was shorter than it had been in Orem; that was no big shock because it only took a few minutes to cut it. But he had a shiner and a limp that looked painful, with the outline of teeth marks- big ones, like chupacabra size- healing on his forearm. There was also a stripe of burned skin along the side of his neck, closely following a ridge of muscle. Sam had no idea where that could have come from.

"Uh- no. You?" Sam asked quietly, not wanting to cause Ali any more grief.

"Cas needed a break. Kinda out of his zone of expertise." Dean said, walking to the other side of the cot. "I brought you some water. Try not to get dehydrated, okay?"

Ali only pulled the blankets further over her head and tighter around her body.

"I got tissues too. I'll leave them next to your pillow if you need them, Allison." Dean dropped his delivery next to the cot and dragged another wooden chair up next to Sam's.

 _Allison?_ Sam stared directly at Dean, who was watching Ali as her weeping tapered off. _He hasn't called her Allison since she started talking to us. And he's called her Li ever since he was cursed. What the hell is happening?_

Sam wanted to ask his brother what was going on, where his memory had gone, why Ali's hair was long, and how Dean got a bite mark and burn like that, but he just couldn't form the words. Eventually, Ali's breathing slowed and evened out, the crying ceasing as peace overcame her.

"Cas says this is only for a few weeks. Just until he can figure out what to do with her." Dean said quietly, not taking his eyes off the lump under the blankets.

"What's for a few weeks?" Sam asked, finally finding his voice.

Dean looked at him in confusion, the shadows from the dim desk lamp falling lazily over his face. He motioned to the cot and the softly snoring form beneath a mountain of blankets. "Her. We only have to babysit for a few weeks. After that, she's Cas' problem again. Mark my words, Sam: we are never taking in a stray again."

And suddenly, Sam remembered the night he first met Ali.

* * *

Sam took a deep breath. _Still the bunker_. He thought as he opened his eyes.

He was in the hallway again, standing in the same spot as before. Still in pajamas, though a different set this time. Black shirt, gray plaid pants.

"Ali?" He called quietly down the dim hall. It was brighter than before, but not by much. Slowly, he crept down towards the bedrooms. All the lights were off. But the kitchen light was on, pouring a generous amount of yellow tinged illumination into the hall further down the corridor.

Sam didn't make it to the door before a figure emerged, trying to find the light switch.

"Ali?" Sam asked again, a bit louder.

The figure gasped and jumped, stumbling a few steps backwards. The sound of liquid hitting the concrete floor filled the hall, followed closely by labored breathing. "Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up."

The voice sounded like Ali. Kind of. It was tight, controlled to the point of pain, and jumpy. Nothing like how Ali normally sounded. "What's going on?" Sam asked, walking closer and willing his eyes to adjust.

It was Ali alright. But again, she had long brown hair; it looked poorly kept and hopelessly tangled. And she was wearing a dead guy robe, not her soft polka dots. She had a glass of water in her hand, half empty, with the remainder slowly spreading on the ground at her feet and soaking her sleeve. "Nothing, I was just getting some tap water. I'm sorry. Just give me a minute- I'll find a rag or something." She started to go back into the kitchen, but stopped when Sam spoke.

"It's just water, Ali. No big deal." Sam said, moving to stand just a yard or so from her. She started shaking. _Was it something I did?_

"But I spilled it on your floor. It was my fault. I'm sorry- it won't happen again." She wouldn't look at Sam, choosing instead to stare at the puddle.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." He waited a few seconds for her to glance up and give him a look at those beautiful eyes. For her to turn and smirk at him, punch his shoulder and say 'gotcha'. For her to tell him why she was so upset. When she didn't move, but continued to shake, frozen in place, Sam sighed and frowned. "Did I do something to you?"

Ali shook her head quickly, eyes still down. "N-no, of course not. You and Dan… no, wait. D-Dean? You and Dean have been very kind. And very patient. I'm sorry. I'll go back to my room now." She flicked the light off and skirted around Sam, brushing the far wall as she ran back to her room. Sam heard her door open and close quietly.

 _Dan? Did someone hit her on the head?_ Sam stood in the dark, struggling to come up with an explanation. One little blip of a thought gave him a clue. _I was in her room with Dean. He said she'd only be here a few weeks. That was when Cas brought her to us. And this…_ Sam racked his brain and a fuzzy memory came to him. It was this same event; he'd surprised her in the hall at night, and she spilled water. She was still learning their names and wouldn't look anyone in the eye; she hardly ever left her room. That was only five weeks after she arrived.

Before he knew it, Sam was outside her door, knocking lightly. "Ali? What's got you on edge?"

Ali ripped her door open violently, making Sam flinch in surprise. She didn't look at him. This time, she stared at his chest, like she was trying to look like she was paying attention while avoiding eye contact at the same time. "Nothing. I'm sorry if I did something wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong. Ali, this is your home, too. You can come out of your room and walk around, read some books, use my computer, whatever you want. You don't have to stay cooped up in your room all day." Sam said, remembering what he wished he had said when this first happened.

Slowly, her face worked its way up to look at Sam's. Even in the dim light from her desk lamp, Ali's eyes still enchanted Sam. He couldn't help but grin. A tiny hint of a smile tugged at her face before she spoke. "Thanks. But I don't think I'm ready just yet."

"Well, open invitation. And if you ever want a tour, just come find me." Sam said, his heart melting a little at the arrival and quick departure of a genuine smile on her face. It already felt like eternity since he'd seen her happy. He wished he could remember what happened before all these dream things.

"Okay." She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. Sam smiled again and turned as she started to close her door. "Goodnight Sam."

"Goodnight, Ali."

His smile grew as he realized that she'd gotten his name right the first time.

* * *

Sam was still in the bunker as he took another deep breath. But this time, he wasn't in the hall. He was in a bed. His bed, from the looks of it, from a few months ago. And a few months after they'd met Ali. Still in pajamas, still just as confused as before, Sam sat up and tried to figure out what the hell was happening to him.

He was so lost in thought that when the knocking finally broke through, he jumped. Scrambling out of bed, he went to his door and gripped the handle before hesitating. So far all these dreams had been harmless; what if this one wasn't? He had no way to protect himself at the moment, and going to his bed stand to get his gun would require leaving the door unattended. Instead of backing away and arming himself, Sam leaned against the door and listened hard.

Another knock.

"Are you awake?" The voice was almost so soft that Sam didn't hear it even in the silence that shrouded the bunker.

With a smile on his face, Sam swung his door open. Ali yelped and stumbled back a few steps, spilling coffee from a mug in her hand onto the floor. She stared up at Sam with wide eyes.

And she was finally wearing her polka dot robe.

"Ali." Sam breathed, unable to can the grin stuck on his face.

"Morning Sam. I- I didn't even hear you get out of bed." Ali said quietly, brushing a lock of stray hair back behind her ear. "I brought you coffee."

"You didn't have to." He took the cup and breathed deep, feeling the tension roll out of his shoulders. All the smells of home were there to welcome him into this new dream; coffee, that musty, damp bunker smell, fabric softener from the bed, and a hint of Ali's shampoo. "But thank you."

The girl in front of him smiled and wrung her fingers like she used to when she was nervous. "I, um, I made some breakfast. It's been a while since I cooked, but… like riding a bike, right? I hope you don't mind. Dean said I could use the stuff in the kitchen, and a lot of your food was about to expire. You mentioned how you wanted an actual home cooked meal a few days ago, so I just thought… maybe I could do that for you."

Sam's smile grew even wider, if that were possible. He chuckled. "How do you even remember that? I said that days ago, in passing, while Dean was blaring Metallica on our way back from the thrift shop." That had been the day she gave the brothers her first genuine, lasting smile. They all laughed at the fugly pink polka dot thing, but in the end, after she put it back on the clothing rack, Sam pulled it out of a bag and tossed it to her in the backseat. He'd never seen her so excited. If he had to pin down one moment in time when his eyes were first drawn to her, it would've been then. The feeling was strange; less like butterflies and more like an adrenaline rush. He wasn't sure what it had been at the time, but looking back, it was obvious: the first tiny inkling of a crush. And her making breakfast for the first time- for _him specifically_ \- gave him the same feeling. He'd have a lot of those episodes before he actually admitted how he felt to anyone.

"I listen." She shrugged, looking away like she was embarrassed. He could have sworn she blushed before she hid her face. "It's all done, if you're hungry."

"I can't wait."

* * *

The transition to the next scene was jarring. Sam had been about to follow Ali down the hall and into the kitchen, just like the good ol' days. But then the hall light went out.

And he was wearing jeans and boots and a shirt and jacket. And the area around him no longer smelled musty and welcoming; this place was cold, stale, and earthy, with a pungent bite of decay and smoke making its way to him every few seconds.

"Come look at this." Sam turned around in the darkness and saw a figure holding a flashlight, peering down a different hall. The walls here looked to be made of dirt, with solid wooden supports every few feet. It took a moment, but Sam recognized the figure: Cas. Sam listened hard for a moment before slowly walking towards his friend.

Why was Cas here, but not Ali? She'd been in every dream so far.

"It may not have been a wendigo that took your brother."

Sam stood next to Cas and gagged at the sight. It was a bone dump. A _wendigo_ bone dump, with freshly rotting bit and pieces of people strewn throughout. But that wasn't what Cas was talking about. On the walls, scrawled out in neat lines and symbols, were three separate sets of images. On the floor of the cavern sat a relatively clear and clean area of stone. A small, shallow copper colored bowl sat in the middle of it. And in the bowl sat a diverse collection of ingredients. Bits of flesh, some hairs, sand-looking stuff, a few feathers, and a few scraps of clothing.

Next to the bowl, one sock and a pair of dirty jeans with some fabric cut out lay draped over something. Something big with smooth contours.

Sam was there in a flash, relying on Cas' flashlight to keep him from falling into a mess of rot.

The clothes were laying on a rock, well weathered and irritatingly human-shaped.

"Sam." Cas' voice was more alarmed than Sam had felt going into the cavern. This memory was fuzzy, but he thought he remembered the pile not being Dean. And he knew Dean was alive and with him in Orem, so he had to be okay, right?

"Cas, what's up?" Sam asked, picking his way back to the mine corridor where Cas stood, frozen and staring off into space.

"Allison has entered the mine." Cas said quickly. "And she's going the other way."

"She did what?" Sam barked, finally making it back to the mine. A strong dose of adrenaline hit his bloodstream and he tensed, curling and uncurling his fists. "I told her to stay put in the symbols. Did you see her or are you hearing her?"

Cas continued to stare into space for a few moments before he looked to Sam. "Hearing her. I cannot see other places without being there. She found Dean's other boot and -" Cas took off running, leaving Sam in the dark. It didn't take long for Sam to catch up even in the lack of light.

"What the hell, Cas?" Sam panted as they ran through the mine, Cas turning down a new path every now and then. Sam assumed he was finding his way to Ali or the outside world, but the sudden departure had him on high alert.

"It has her." Cas said without missing a beat.

Sam's chest clenched up. More and more of this adrenaline soaked day was starting to come back. He remembered running with Cas, and then losing Cas in the maze of a mine. But then… just haze. But Ali was alive back in Orem, right? So she had to be okay here too. Right?

"Can you find her? Can you- can you like poof there or something?" Sam asked quickly, trying to remember which way they were going in case he needed to backtrack at any point.

"She's warded and I am severely weakened right now. Even if I could find her, I would be unable to go to her." Cas said, a sharp right causing Sam to lose sight of him momentarily.

"We're fucking _forty five minutes_ into this damn mine. It could take us days to find the wendigo's stash of people. She and Dean could be dead by then."

"I am aware."

The rescue team sprinted for fifteen minutes before the soft glow of daylight started to trickle into the mine. Cas slowed to a stop, breathing just as hard as Sam. "She went left at all the forks. That is what she told me."

Sam wasted no time in running down the leftmost path. Cas followed.

A roar echoed through the pit, making the pair skid to a stop. The sound hadn't come from in front of them. It was back the way they'd come. "You said she went left?" Sam panted, looking back and forth down the hall after grabbing his own flashlight from where it had sat, forgotten, in his belt.

"That is what she told me." Cas repeated, staring back the way they came. "She may have gotten lost."

They found the source of the sound in one of the middle tunnels. The wendigo ran off at the sight of the blow torch, so they gave chase, hoping it would lead them to its storage area. They hadn't tracked it for very long when Cas skidded to a stop, causing Sam to run right into him, nearly flooring them both.

Sam looked down the hall past Cas. He saw nothing worth stopping for and they were losing the trail. "Move it, Cas!"

"She found Dean." Cas whispered, sounding amazed and terrified at the same time.

"What?" Sam felt his blood rush to his feet. The relief was almost palpable in the air; he could kiss her.

For- uh, finding Dean, of course.

"She says there's a wendigo cornering her in a- a room. In the left side of the mine." Cas turned slightly, his face darkened. "There are two wendigoes. Sam, those marks on the wall- I recognize them now. Two binding spells and a transfiguration curse."

"So there are two wendigoes? And they're bound to something?" Sam asked, trying to force understanding into his racing, hazy, anxious, sleep deprived mind.

"Bound to serve a witch. I don't know who, and I'm not sure what the curse is for. Stay alert; those curses are used to change people into whatever the witch desires. Wolf, giant spider, superhuman- anything they have the ingredients for." Cas started moving back toward the trail of the wendigo they'd been chasing.

"Wait, Cas. She's not down here, she and Dean are on the other side of the mine. Where are you going?" Sam demanded, motioning back the way they came. "We're here to save Dean- well, Dean and Ali now- not kill a wendigo, remember? Primary objective wins out. What if Dean's hurt? What if the other creep gets to them before we do?"

"If there are two, they will be working together. Once they combine forces, Allison and Dean will have very low odds of survival." Cas continued going deeper into the mine. He swung his flashlight up and down the corridor, past Sam. "I will meet you outside the mine once I am finished. Go."

Sam didn't need to be persuaded.

By the time he found his way back to the entrance- getting lost twice almost had him punching a wall- he was breathless. Yeah, he could run for a long time, longer than Dean much to his brother's chagrin, but this was a bit much.

It was while he was pausing to catch his breath that he heard two sets of pounding footsteps echoing off the walls. He sighed, the sudden relief making him a little dizzy. Ali had found Dean and they were coming out just as he made it to where the tunnel she first went down began.

 _They're running kind of fast._ Sam thought, confused. _Unless…_ He took out his flare gun just in case. Moving closer to the start of the mine shaft now brimming with sound, Sam stood ready for anything.

He was pretty sure the blur that was coming into the light was Ali, sprinting out of the mine. But a split second later, as soon as the space behind her was illuminated, he knew it wasn't Dean following her. There was nothing behind her for a few seconds, not that Sam could see. She never would have let herself get that far ahead of him, not when he was in poor condition and a threat was nearby. _She left him?!_ "Ali?" He shouted as she ran into the light. "Where's Dean?"

She didn't stop, but flew through the stout mine entrance, holding her stomach like she was in pain. He lost sight of her, his gut telling him to chase after her and make sure she was okay. _What happened to you?_

"Oh shit-" Sam gasped and pushed off on the ground as hard as he could. There was a white blur moving faster than Ali and straight for the exit, where Ali had just disappeared. It would catch up in five, maybe seven seconds at most.

The light outside was blinding after such a long time in the black emptiness of the mine, but Sam forced his eyes open and lined up a shot as he ran, dodging branches and downed trees. No matter where he aimed, Ali could be hit if the wendigo moved slightly to either side at any time. _What's worse: being attacked by a wendigo or shot with a glare and_ then _attacked by a wendigo?_ He just couldn't figure out how to take out the creature and not the girl.

Sam sure hadn't been expecting her to make a hard left and jump over a stream, but he took the opportunity. The flare hit exactly where he meant it to go and buried itself in the thing's back. However, the resulting howl from the creature only served to remind him that there was another threat in the mine. With Ali safe for the moment, Sam dove back into the darkness, trying to find his way to Dean, Cas, or the second wendigo, preferably in that order. He threw the empty flare gun down a random hall and got his butane torch out. _If she ran, she'll be okay until I get back. She'll be fine. She's not hurt that bad. She'll be okay. She'll be okay._

When he finally located the other pool of light in this abyss he was relieved, but only a fraction. "Update?" Sam called, slowing to a walk as he neared Cas.

"The wendigo is dead. Did you locate Allison and Dean?" Cas pushed past Sam, prompting him to start running after the angel in order to answer.

"I found Ali and the second wendigo. She's safe but hurt and it's dead. No Dean."

Cas was much quicker with the sharp turns than Sam was. He nearly fell at the sudden change in direction, which only served to heighten his frustration with the whole situation this day brought.

"Did she say where she found him? Where he is now?"

"No, we didn't talk. It was chasing her, I killed it, came back to help you and find Dean." Sam was officially gasping for air now. Even in his weakened state, angel flyboy could outrun anyone without breaking a sweat. And the fact that he was breathing hard really said something about how this rescue was going.

Cas growled in frustration, picking up the pace. "We need to get that information if we intend to find Dean before he dies of thirst."

"Shit, three days without water and... Right."

"This is day three."

"I _know,_ Cas."

Both men were gasping for breath by the time they burst from the mine. Ali wasn't hard to find; she was seated in the circle of warding symbols on a pile of their hiking bags, packed full with four days worth of supplies to get them through their journey in mine and cave country just outside Centerville. She looked exhausted and pained, still holding her stomach with both arms. Worry started to settle in Sam's gut as they jogged up to their makeshift base.

"What happened?" Ali asked, her voice sounding just as exhausted and tight as Sam felt.

"There were two." Cas went to stand beside Ali. He gave her a quick onceover before turning to scan the forest around them. "We found Dean's pants and one sock. But no Dean. You said you found him?" Cas looked back to Ali for whatever explanation she was going to give.

Sam, too, noticed a gross lack of Dean in the immediate vicinity. "Yeah, where is he?" A hint of a memory tugged at Sam's mind, but the moment his eyes met Ali's, it was gone. "Is he still in there? Did you leave him alone?" The anger in his tone surprised him; he hadn't meant to direct it at Ali. She was just getting out of danger. And why shouldn't she? She wasn't responsible for Dean.

Sam was. And he failed when the wendigo took Dean, and he failed again when Ali almost died trying to find him.

Even after Sam's rather loud outburst, Ali's lips pulled into a timid, tired smile. She removed one of her arms from her stomach and motioned for Sam and Cas to come closer. "You'll wake him." She whispered, the smile never leaving her face.

"What?" Sam stammered, his eyes growing wide as she unzipped her two outermost layers. There was something in her jacket… She wasn't hurt, she was just holding something that had tan colored fur. But as Sam came closer, his knees gave out in shock. He knelt before Ali and locked eyes with his brother. His… baby brother. "…Dean?"

The world seemed to move in slow motion as Dean started to squirm and cry out for 'ammy'. Sam looked up at Ali, who was smiling down at tiny Dean with the most loving and protective gaze he had seen outside of Dean himself. A tiny adrenaline rush, not like earlier, but more… calming and breathtaking, hit him.

Then Sam remembered. He remembered that day, the day they killed two wendigoes, the day they found Dean de-aged, the day they were hunted by a witch through the forest. Ali _was_ hurt. The wendigo had torn her shoulder to pieces and her feet were a bloody mess from all the running on unhealed cuts from an earlier incident. And she _still_ saved Dean. She saved him when Sam couldn't.

 _How could I have forgotten this?_

 _This was when I fell in love with her._

* * *

Sam jumped and sputtered as a rush of water hit him in the face. He tried to move away from it, but backed into a very cold wall before he was out of the hot water. Rubbing the liquid from his eyes, Sam looked around like a cornered animal, gasping for breath.

Shower.

He was in a shower. Naked.

"What the hell is going on?" He muttered to himself, shutting off the water. Glancing around the curtain, Sam found himself back in the bunker. And pre-dream Sam had left him a pile of clothes to put on. He managed to calm down pretty quickly, hoping this dream scene was less violent than the last.

With his hair still dripping a little, Sam padded along the hallway to the bedrooms. Ali's was ajar; it looked just like her normal bedroom, complete with plaid sheets, a vase of fake flowers from the thrift store, and her pink journal, splayed open on the desk. But it was unoccupied, at least from what he could see without opening the door any further.

Dean's door was closed, but Sam couldn't hear anything inside, so he quickly moved to his own room, opening his door to find it exactly the way he left it when they headed off to Orem. Everything tidy, in its place, folded, or put away.

"Where are you?" Sam murmured, looking up and down the hallway as he left his room. He knew Ali had to be around here somewhere- she'd been in all these freaky dream things.

Turns out she was in this one too, standing in the kitchen. Sam rolled his eyes. He wished she wouldn't cook so much, even though he loved her creations. It made him uncomfortable to think that she thought she was expected to do those kinds of things. Cleaning, cooking, caring. She was the maid, the chef, and the welcoming arms of this place. Everyone- Sam, Dean, Cas, even Bobby- had told her that she didn't have to do those things. She told them the same thing every time: it was therapeutic for her. And after a while, Sam believed it. She'd cook when they got back from hunts, after any argument, when she was having a bad day.

Sam wished she wouldn't cook so much, but he didn't bring it up anymore. She enjoyed it. He wanted her to be happy.

As Sam approached the kitchen, her voice got louder and clearer; she was singing. In the background, Sam could hear someone stirring something on the stove; the quiet grating sound of wood on metal was unmistakable.

The hunter stopped in the hall. It wasn't often that he'd get to hear her sing. Maybe if he snuck into the shower room when she thought she was alone. Maybe early in the morning when she didn't think they were up. Maybe in the car, if the music was quiet enough. He felt like a creep sometimes, but he loved her voice and sought it out whenever he could. It had just the right amount of tenderness countered by an edge that left him wanting more. She wouldn't sing if anyone asked her. It was a totally organic thing, spur of the moment. Usually.

"This is the end that will never end. This is the voice of silence no more." Her words echoed softly through the hall.

Sam grinned. "Metallica?" He almost couldn't believe that such an intense song, by such an iconic rock band, could sound so intimate, so soothing without changing the notes or the lyrics. Granted, she was singing it a lot slower than the actual song went, but he figured that was part of the charm.

"Some kind of monster… Some kind of monster." Ali continued. Sam heard someone tap a wooden spoon on a pan and set it down on the counter. "Some kind of monster... This little monster lives."

When the chorus stopped, Sam rounded the corner into the kitchen. He stopped short at the sight before him. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this.

Ali was making soup. Perfectly normal thing to do in a kitchen. But she had her entire left shoulder encased in a wad of gauze and her feet were white bundles too, resting inside a pair of oversized, heavily padded house slippers. Her arms looked battered and he could only imagine what other damage was hidden by her tank top and sweatpants.

The thing that shocked him most, however, was the little blond boy on her hip, resting his head on her shoulder and sucking his thumb. In his free hand was a small, black, toy car, gripped tightly as the kid's arm fell over Ali's to rest near her back.

Neither person was facing Sam, but when he came in, Ali heard him. She had incredible hearing when they removed the demon; a fact that they had still been getting used to when they left for Orem. Made it hard to sneak up on her anymore.

"Hey Sam." She whispered, using her free arm to rub little circles on Dean's back. Now that Ali had turned, Sam could see that his brother was fast asleep. He even had dark blue pajamas on already.

It wasn't hard for Sam to remember that day. One of the first days since they brought Dean home from Centerville. Dean, stuck in his tiny, sick form and unable to help the team solve his case, had thrown the mother of all tantrums. It lasted for about an hour. Deafening screaming and yelling nonsense words, tears and snot, coughing and nerve-wracking gasping spells, tiny fists and heartbreak. Sam took the brunt of the attack, keeping the young hunter out of harm's way- and trouble- until he started to lose some steam and ceased his attempts to get at his or Sam's computers and journals. This was hard for Dean. All he wanted to do was help them get him back to normal, but he couldn't and it was killing him. Sam knew it. When anger turned to sobs, Sam picked him up and just walked around the bunker, patting his back, humming songs he thought might help calm his brother down. Lullabies, kid friendly rock songs, themes to TV shows. It was a long while before Dean's sobbing turned to exhausted hiccups.

Poor kid must have had some kind of hiccups. Or maybe it was the tantrum. Could have been his cold, too. Whatever the cause, Dean ended a hiccup by throwing up all down Sam's back.

That was a rough day.

Ali took Dean and changed him while Sam went to scrub the vile liquid off of himself with the hottest water he could handle.

And then Sam walked in on Ali successfully lulling Dean to sleep with a song by Metallica called 'Some Kind of Monster'. Ironic.

"I can take him now, if you want." Sam murmured, going to stand next to Ali. The scene was pulling back more than physical memories and Sam wasn't sure he was ready to deal with what this was stirring up. Sometimes, way back when Dean was de-aged, Sam let himself pretend that he had his own little family. That he had a beautiful woman and a kid as adorable as Dean had been. But he only daydreamed for a few seconds before putting that hope away again. They needed to get Dean back to normal. And… he was pretty sure Ali liked Dean more than him anyway.

Just like way back then, Sam put his hope away before it dug in and started to sting.

"He _is_ getting a little heavy." Ali said. "He should probably go down for the night. Wore himself out." She transferred the sleeping hunter to Sam like a pro. Kid didn't even flinch in his sleep. Sam held Dean against his chest with both arms, just watching his big brother wiggle around until his ear was pressed to Sam's shirt, right above his heart. That was a habit of Dean's, since he got tiny. They had no idea why.

"I couldn't believe how quickly you got him to stop crying earlier."

Sam looked up to see Ali smiling at him with tired, loving eyes. He almost forgot to breathe. "Guess I know which buttons to push." The redness in his cheeks betrayed him, but Ali didn't seem to react.

"That's a true skill." Ali chuckled lightly, running a hand through her hair. It was still long and a pretty shade of brown at this point.

"So… Metallica?" Sam asked softly, starting to rub little circles on Dean's back when he stirred. He went still after just a few seconds with a big sigh.

This time Ali blushed and donned an embarrassed smile as she looked away and rolled her eyes. "Eavesdropper." She said when she looked back at Sam.

"Why not a lullaby? You've got to know more than I do."

"He mentioned once that Metallica calms him down. I noticed that he listens to that song in particular whenever we finish a hunt and are on our way home. It's not really the first thing he plays, but after a couple hours, usually when you and I are supposedly sleeping, the tape goes in and doesn't come out until we stop. He goes to that song first, every time." Ali watched as Dean started to lose his grip on the toy car. She held her hand under it, close to Sam's side, until it fell right into her palm a few seconds later. "I figured it might still help him settle."

"Seems like it worked pretty well." Sam smiled, realizing that he had started gently swaying back and forth as Dean snored.

"I only had to sing it five times." Ali grinned and Sam laughed a little too hard. Dean grumbled and looked up at Sam with frustrated, exhausted eyes.

"Sorry, dude." Sam said gently. It didn't take more than five seconds for Dean to drop his head back to Sam's chest and resume his congested snores. "Some kind of monster you are."

"Isn't he though? He's a force when he sets his mind to things. I'll never know how you kept him out of the guns and ammunition, and stopped him from taking every book in the collection off the shelves. You even let him take his frustrations out on you." Ali sighed and crossed her arms, only wincing a little at the wendigo claw marks under her bandages. "You're a natural."

"I wish." Sam whispered, glancing down at Dean and seeing the normal he knew he would never have.

"Wishes do come true sometimes. Don't forget that, Sam." Ali said as she returned to the stove. "Put him down and come get some soup."

"You got it." Sam took Dean to Ali's room. It was her night to take care of him; she'd insisted. The playpen he slept in was already in place when Sam arrived. He set Dean in the baby prison, on the soft padded floor, and left the door to Ali's room ajar in case he woke up and needed one of them. Ali was still in the kitchen when he returned. The dream hadn't changed just yet. He was glad; this was the version of Ali that sent him from love to hopelessly head over heels. Even just one meal with her would be amazing.

"Welcome back." Ali said. She was just setting two steaming bowls of soup on the table when he walked in.

The soup was better than he remembered. He'd have to ask Ali to make it again when he woke up. Maybe he could help this time. "Y'know, you're the natural. You're the one keeping him alive. I'm just trying to ride out the storm."

"Dude, you feed him just as much as I do. You bathe him and change him and play with him; it's not like you aren't pulling your weight. I can see that you love him more than I could ever hope to, and he knows that. You're not riding out the storm, Sam." She paused to take another spoonful of soup. "You're like… surfing on it."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the image in his head. "I don't know what you're seeing, but I don't feel like I'm surfing through this." He let his humor drain, his smile fade as he stared into his soup. It was chicken noodle, but homemade. Best he'd ever had. But it still couldn't ease the sense of failure that had weighed him down since that mine.

"I'm seeing the man I know can accomplish anything he sets his mind to. No matter what."

* * *

Sam knew exactly where he was when he opened his eyes. Actually, before he opened his eyes. The scent of algae, sunscreen, hot sand, and fresh air were plenty to go off of.

Waconda Lake. One of Sam's happier memories.

He was laying beside Dean on their respective towels under a small shade tree growing at the edge of the beach. Sitting up, he fully expected Ali to be dozing on the other side of Dean, enjoying the day.

But she wasn't there.

 _Oh, it's_ that _part of the day._ Sam groaned internally. He pushed the book he had apparently been reading out of his lap and stood, brushing sand off of his trunks and tank top. The hunter in him took a moment to scan up and down the visible length of the beach.

It was packed that day. Whole families swarmed the sand, setting up tiny kingdoms of umbrellas and towels littered with brightly colored kid's toys. The kids usually ignored those toys in favor of running and screaming and splashing wildly while still within their parent's line of sight. Teens played beach volleyball to a soundtrack of loud music spilling from a very battered radio. There were a few young couples, from teens to folks around Sam's age, walking hand in hand just at the water's edge, well away from other beach combers or obnoxious children.

Sam and Ali had already enjoyed the water; it was the perfect temperature for swimming that day. Dean insisted on sleeping under the tree, so the two of them had some long-awaited alone time. Sam was pretty sure Ali had fun with him until she cramped up and he had to carry her back to their towels. What a relief it had been when she recovered just a few minutes later.

They lazed around for a while, snoozing or reading on either side of Dean, who hadn't budged since he went down. After about half an hour or so, Ali wanted to walk the beach. Alone. Sam took the hint.

He remembered regretting that decision.

The wind carried just a whisper of a shout down the beach and that was all Sam needed to hear. He took off down the sand, full force, ignoring the angry shouts and frustrated growls of people who got sprayed by sand as he went past. He knew exactly where she was.

Surrounded by three punks, just oversized kids probably barely twenty years old, who were harassing her, humiliating her, and threatening her. Sam jogged up beside Ali, taking the trio by surprise. The look on her face when he arrived gave him that same adrenaline feeling. Like she was amazed that he would come for her. He would _always_ come when she called. "Hey, is there a problem here?"

"No, we were just talkin', right Princess?" The guy who spoke was a scrawny redheaded thing, much shorter than Sam, yet still taller and probably stronger than Ali. He looked like the type who would boast his own inflated ego, who would think himself untouchable.

"Princess?" Sam repeated, looking down at Ali, who was practically fuming.

"I was trying to get back but then I met these three." She put on her fakest smile and crossed her arms over her chest.

 _She feels exposed. What did they do to her?_

"Yeah, we were just flirtin', ya know. Goin' back and forth." Redhead grinned at her and Sam moved just a little closer.

"They threatened me." Ali hugged herself tighter and leaned towards Sam. She probably didn't even know she was doing it. It still made Sam's stomach flip to know that she felt safer with him around. Or maybe his stomach flipped because of what she said.

"You threatened her?" Sam snapped, feeling his fists curl at his sides.

"No way. We were just havin' fun, right, kitten?"

 _I'll show you fun._ Sam wanted so badly to just punt the kid down the beach but there were people around and warrants out for his arrest already.

"Stop calling me that." Ali growled, grabbing hold of Sam's arm. "Let's go, Sam."

I let her lead, staying just behind her in case those idiots weren't finished. We made it like ten feet before we were surrounded again. I noticed my arm wrapping around her back and pulling her closer before I even realized it was me doing it. She didn't seem to mind.

"So you're just gonna leave with this loser?" Redhead whined, feigning hurt. "Who wears a shirt at the beach anyway? Fat kids with something to hide, am I right?"

The other two, who looked like brother, agreed.

Sam glared at them. _Do I look fat to you? I'd scare kids if they saw the scars on my skin. People would stare. That's not how I want to be seen._ "If you don't move, I'll move you." Sam said, keeping his voice low so that the group of older women reading books under umbrellas nearby wouldn't be alarmed. "I don't want to hurt you." _Well, actually…_

"Like you could hurt me. See this?" Redhead looked like he was trying to flex. Sam didn't really see a difference. "This is what a real man is made of."

"A real man doesn't threaten women."

"Oh, did we step on your toes, pretty boy? Did we take your girl from you?" One of the brothers butted in.

Sam _hated_ when people assumed other people were property. Like a woman belonged to the man she was with. Like the little brother belonged to the big brother. "She's not mine. She doesn't belong to anyone but herself. And she never will." _Not even if there's a ring on it._ Sam sighed, putting the hope away before it started to hurt.

"Why so protective of that piece of ass? She your sister? Your little cuz? All she wants to do is spend time with us, right, Princess?" Redhead moved one step closer and Sam's arm tightened around Ali once more.

She had other plans though. Sam felt her start to pull away and he let her go, but readied himself for a fight. She stepped right up to the redhead, her face just inches from his, and whispered something in his ear. Sam couldn't hear what it was, but he grinned when she slapped him so hard he fell to the ground. Leaning over, she flipped him off.

"Ali…" Sam called, both amused and concerned. The brothers were starting to look more tense, like they were gearing up for a fight. Sam didn't want Ali anywhere near that if it happened. But the woman heard Sam and sauntered back to his side, crossing her arms again. The hunter couldn't help but smile when she came back to _him._

"Bitch." The redhead growled, holding his face. "You'll pay for this."

"No. She won't." Sam said flatly. He took the chance and put his arm around Ali's shoulders, gently pulling her away from the scumbags. She went, but Sam could have sworn she inched just a little closer as they walked.

Sam heard the footsteps clear as day, coming low and fast behind them. He turned and caught the redhead's wrist just before he groped Ali. _Sexual assaulting the friend of a hunter. Not the best idea._

Ali turned and gasped, stepping back and slightly behind Sam.

"Walk away." Sam growled, clamping down on the guy's wrist until he said he'd leave.

"Or what, pretty boy? You can't just take a piece of meat away from a hungry dog."

The look the redhead sent towards Ali was enough for Sam to wish he could break the guy's arm. The 'piece of meat' thing was enough for him to think about actually doing it. But the way he looked her up and down put the hesitation out of Sam's mind. He squeezed harder and harder until the redhead started to squirm. "Call her a piece of meat ever again, and I'll take every one of those pearly whites out for you." Sam kept his voice quiet. There were still people around.

"Let go, asshat." The redhead gasped. Sam waited until he felt a pop under his fingers before releasing the kid. Cradling his wounded arm to his chest, the redhead looked to his buddies. "Are you just gonna stand there?"

 _Here we go._ Sam groaned to himself. He was surprised when Ali stepped in front of him and gently pushed him back. The situation didn't lend itself to being safe enough for him to just step aside, but Sam resigned himself to be back up. If one fist landed on her, he'd bury the man.

Turns out he wouldn't need to. Ali floored both brothers before smirking down at their leader who was kneeling in the sand. "Don't look so surprised, Princess."

Sam grinned the whole way back to the tree.

 _She really is perfect._

* * *

Sam blinked and instantly the air was colder, the sand under his feet turned to smooth rocks. He was pressing a towel to his face and his body felt wet, like he'd just been swimming. Alarmed, he pulled the towel away and waited for his eyes to adjust. The area around him was dark, or at least much darker than the beach had been.

She was the first thing he was able to focus on.

Ali was between him and a calm, slow river, wrapped in a towel and shivering occasionally. _Hell yes._ Sam grinned anticipating the evening that was to come; it was still a favorite memory of his. However, the grin faded when he realized where this dream was starting.

Ali's cheeks were bright red and her eyes like that of a child caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Sam quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, his cheeks flushing to match hers. "Uh, I… This is awkward." Even though he remembered the next few hours fondly, this moment still made his stomach turn with embarrassment. He retreated to his duffel back, where he knew his shoes would be. _Why am I having all these dreams? What the hell's going on? One or two in a row, sure, but this? This has never happened._

"It's only awkward if you make it that way." Ali said gently. Sam turned and, just like he remembered, the look in her eyes took his breath away. She wasn't angry or embarrassed or nervous, not like he thought she'd be when she saw… that. The entirety of her body language conveyed comfort, understanding, acceptance.

Like she knew all along.

"There's no one else around. No Bobby, no Dean, no Cas. No prying eyes. You don't have to be embarrassed." She came closer, walking carefully over the rocky riverside.

"You're not… surprised." At the time, Sam had been confused and shocked. He knew they were friends, but this?

Ali looked Sam up and down before pulling her towel more tightly around her. She shivered and all Sam wanted was to hold her close and warm her up. After a few seconds of heisitation, Ali went to her duffel and retrieved her shoes. "No. I'm not." That time she sounded a little nervous. Sam wondered if she got the same adrenaline feeling when he was around that he got when she was around.

"Did you know?" Sam asked, already knowing the answer.

"Know what? That you have a crush on me?" Ali smiled at me and my face flushed before I looked away, pretending to focus on putting my shoes on.

"Uh, yeah."

"No."

"Then why aren't you surprised?" Sam asked, watching with a wince of his own as she shouldered her duffel bag on the shoulder that was still healing from the wendigo. She moved the strap to the other shoulder before Sam could offer to carry it.

"Because I feel the same way." Ali shrugged and started walking away, hiding her face. "I just didn't want to seem… I don't know. Like a needy, desperate, stereotypical female protagonist. I didn't want to seem weak, I guess, by admitting that you make me feel…"

Sam grabbed his duffel and jogged to catch up, not wanting to miss those next words.

"Safe, wanted, weak in the knees." And there was the cutest embarrassed blush he'd ever seen her wear.

"Really?" Sam was still just as excited as a kid every time he heard those words. In a dream, in this dream thing, in real life. It made him feel… special.

They walked and talked for a while as they made their way back to the camp they'd set up earlier. Eventually, the subject turned to Dean.

"He keeps trying to get me to tell you about my feelings." Sam said with a snort. He could've done it so much sooner, and without the embarrassing episode at the river if he had just toughed out the fear of rejection that haunted him. Then again, he had other reasons for his hesitation. "He's tired of me stalling. He actually told me that right before he took off earlier."

"Seriously?" Ali giggled. "Why couldn't you just tell me on your own? You scared, hunter boy?"

Sam grinned, but shook his head. "I didn't want to make you think you had to be with me to stay with us. I didn't want to pressure you into something you didn't want to do."

Ali looked at Sam in a way that he'd only seen committed couples achieve. When he tried to identify the emotion behind it, a flood of options came: amusement, mischief, protection, rebellion, devotion, and… love. Honestly it wasn't the first time he'd seen love in her eyes when she looked to him. But usually it was brotherly love, friendly love. Or caring love, like when she pulled shards of glass from his arm and patched him up. This love wasn't any of that. And it started a fire in Sam's chest.

"I appreciate that." She said, looking back to the trial. "Still, it would've been nice to know. I'm not that easily pressured. I know what I want."

That night would wear on around the campfire. They'd change out of their soaking clothes one by one in the tent and warm up some food for dinner. She'd admit that she found the condoms Dean stashed in Sam's things before the camping trip test thing started. Sam would claim he had no intention to use them on that trip, which he didn't. But then she'd start to flirt with him, slowly at first, shyly. Then the air got a little thicker and they ended up rolling around in the tent, having the most fun Sam had had in a very long time. They stopped short of third base, but it was still amazing. He felt closer to her than he had ever been and it felt like the first glimpse of his perfect normal.

* * *

He was back in the motel room in Orem, standing by the table when he opened his eyes next. It didn't take him long to get his bearings. _Finally. That dream went on forever._ Sam sighed; it hadn't been all bad. Not like the ones he normally suffered through. He had a feeling that the warm feeling in his chest wouldn't leave him for quite some time, which was totally fine with him.

But then… something about the scene seemed off.

"Finally." Sam's eyes were drawn to Ali, who was smiling sweetly and coming straight at him. There was anticipation in her eyes.

He couldn't believe that this was happening. What did he do to deserve living through this night for a second time? The smile that colored his face didn't leave until she kissed him. In that moment, Sam couldn't care less about the whys or hows, as long as she was there.

Back then, just a few days ago really, Sam had decided to take it slow. To give her everything she wanted and make her feel as special as she made him feel. It was a night of exhilaration, lust, need, affirmation, and above all, love.

In the midst of… the experience before the experience, Sam let his hope come out, just a little. He imagined them in a sturdy little two story with a picket fence and a garage and a big yard out back. He imagined having countless nights just like this, just the two of them. But Sam knew he wanted more than that. At one point, he moved to kiss up and down her belly, letting himself believe just for a moment that a part of him could be living there. That he'd get to meet that extension of himself, that continuation of his bloodline in just a few months.

He wanted a playset in that yard.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" He asked softly, his voice full of the hope he'd let slip. The hope that was slowly consuming him. He knew better than to act on it, though. The condom in his back pocket would put to good use.

"More than anything." She leaned in and kissed his neck. He answered by tracing one hand down her side, resisting the urge to return to her soft, warm belly, then moving over her thigh. When she let her legs fall to the sides and pulled him closer, Sam took the hint.

Through the entire experience, Sam had to actively try to not think about what he'd done to her. How he forced her to take pills to kill his own hope. How she reacted by running from them and nearly getting herself killed. Sam just tried to focus on the here and now, and maybe the night they found her and brought her home. When she was close, Sam could hope. Just a little.

* * *

Rage was the first thing that he felt. _I haven't felt like this in years._ Sam thought, dreading what he would see when he opened his eyes. _I don't remember this. The dreams- they've all gone in order. Maybe this is a vision? But those ended years ago. Someone must have done something to Dean or Ali to get me this worked up. When the hell did this- or, or does this- happen?_

Dean Winchester lay in a puddle of his own blood at Sam's feet. His eyes were mostly closed, but lifeless. Horrified, Sam stepped back from the slowly spreading liquid and caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection.

He had a black eye. His arms were covered with red marks that would soon be bruises. The side of his head was bleeding and his lip was split. Dean looked worse. _What the hell were we fighting?_ Sam looked around but saw no one else, which only served as fuel for the anger building in his gut. They were in the club, but alone. The overhead lights were shining brightly into his eyes and exposing every wound on Dean's body.

 _It wasn't a jinx?_ Sam realized that no jinx could do this much damage without a host. And there was no one else around. _He must've run off._

Sam wanted to check if Dean was okay, he really did. But he just… didn't. Instead, he walked around the side of the bar to see the rest of the room. _Guess I'll come back in a minute. Hang in there, Dean._

Ali was there, sitting behind an unconscious woman, holding what looked like wire around the woman's neck. "Sam, it's me." She yelled as Sam slowed, but continued walking towards her.

 _Why does she seem scared of me? I mean, I look like hell but she knows I wouldn't hurt her. And that must be the jinx's host. She caught it._

"It's Ali." She yelled again, inching backwards and tugging the woman along until she hit the wall behind her.

Sam wanted to stop and hold his hands up, try to calm her down before she killed the host; they could still save that woman.

But that's not what his body did. "Doesn't matter who you are."

Sam froze up, in his head at least. _What the hell? Am I possessed?_ He tried to call out the demon in his head; usually they responded in some capacity when the vessel acted up. But there was nothing. Not even a feeling of fullness in his head. Just the rage, the all-consuming anger that had him seeing red.

"I'll kill her." Ali's voice was thick with fear and panic. She tugged the wire tighter around the woman's neck.

Outer Sam didn't like that.

Inner Sam wanted to shout for her to run, to get away as fast as she could. He wanted to throttle whatever had him doing these things and get back to Dean, keep Ali safe.

It was hell. Literal hell. Sam watched his own hand grip her hair and pull her away from the woman, making her lose her grip on the wire. He held her up _by her hair_ for a few seconds before he threw her down in front of him. No matter what he did, or how hard he tried, or how loud he yelled in his own head, he couldn't stop his body from moving. He wanted to throw up.

Outer Sam stomped one of his boots down on her hip when she tried to get up. Inner Sam could do little but try to regain control and watch with horrified dread as the scene played out. _It's just a dream. It's just a dream._

"You're a real pain, y'know that?" It was his voice, but it wasn't him.

 _NO!_ Sam shouted in his own head, watching his own foot connect with her arms, knocking them hard into her chest. The impact sent her body sliding a few inches across the floor.

As if once wasn't enough, outer Sam kicked Ali, the woman he loved, right in the stomach. _Please, please stop! I'll do anything, just please-_

"Sam, please, you can fight this. Just stop!" She was gasping for breath.

 _I'm trying, Ali, I'm trying!_ Sam redoubled his efforts, but got no leverage. She wasn't breathing well; she had at least one broken rib. _Gotta call an ambulance asap. Dean could be dying and so could she. Just LET ME GO!_

"Every time I think I have something good, you go and screw it up."

 _No no no, she_ is _the something good. I can't lose- please stop hurting her._

Inner Sam was stunned into silence as another kick rocked Ali's body back against the bar. His only comfort was that she had seen it coming. She protected her broken ribs.

"We found the bunker. You came and put us through hell with panic attacks and all your pathetic triggers. It was like walking on eggshells _in my own home._ "

 _It was never like that. She just needed time, just some time to adjust…_ Inner Sam was beginning to feel numb, the horror, the rage, the panic all blending together and melting away as he watched the scene unfold. _It's just a dream. It's- it's just…_

He kicked her in the shins that time.

"Cas made a tiny mistake and then you had to go and have a breakdown every time he came around. He was attacked by demons because he couldn't stay with us and he's still not back to normal."

He kicked her arms, tearing her skin with the hard rubber soles of his boot and leaving a ragged, bloody rift through both limbs.

"I used to be one of Dean's top priorities. Now he'll go to the ends of the earth to find _you_ when _you're_ in trouble."

He kicked her knees, but towards the top, trying to pry them away from her ribcage.

"I loved you, and then you ran from me."

The tip of his boot disappeared into her stomach, just below her ribcage.

 _NO!_ Sam shouted, slamming up against his own skull, desperate for any reprieve, any way to save her from himself. _I'LL DO ANYTHING-_

"And y'know what?" Outer Sam knelt beside her, bringing her bruised and broken form into perfect focus. "I like this new freedom."

"Sam, don't do this, I'm preg-"

* * *

 _Pregnant?_ Sam gasped, feeling his chest rise and fall so quickly that he was getting dizzy. He had control again, but the club was gone. She was gone. _PREGNANT?!_

Sam refused to open his eyes, but fell to his knees and pressed his hands to his face, trying to stop the shaking and tears that already flowed through him. If he could just get his breathing under control… if he could just get control…

 _I killed my own child._

 _I killed_ our _child._ Sam opened his eyes then. He didn't even wonder how he got to this place. It was the river from the camping trip; same rocks, same trees, but now lit in full daylight. As if the world didn't know what he'd done.

He stood and turned a complete circle as the last few days flooded him. That morning, when he'd pushed her away like a piece of garbage. That afternoon, when he couldn't even look at her without getting angry. When he left for the club and met his siren.

" _Why?_ " Sam shouted to the whole forest, violently kicking rocks into the water as his voice echoed off of hills and trees. "Why _her_?" He ran into the woods, towards were the tent should have been. Vision clouded with tears, Sam cursed every time he tripped and fell over a log or a rock or his own feet. Shortly before reaching the campsite, Sam fell to his knees and couldn't bring himself to stand.

"She was it. The one. I- I was _saving up_. She wasn't going to end like Jessica. I- we trained her so she wouldn't-" Sam doubled over and sobbed into the dirt for a long while before any more thoughts formed in his head. "I couldn't stop it. _I_ killed her. I killed her _and our baby_."

He pounded a fist into the dirt until it was numb. Even though he tried to remind himself that this, this forest, was only a dream, it didn't change a thing. What he remembered had happened.

She died before Cas could get to her. His prayer had been too late. There was nothing he could do to save her. Save her from himself.

"It's not the end of the world, Sam."

Sam's breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide before he straightened, still kneeling in the dirt of the path.

It was Ali.

With beautiful chestnut hair that almost reached her elbows. Not a bruise on her, no blood, no damage whatsoever. She looked perfect.

But she wasn't smiling; she seemed tired. And she was wearing a lacy white nightgown, not unlike the one Jess used to have. Her bare feet walked easily through the sticks and rocks on the forest floor as she walked closer.

Sam was sure this hadn't happened in real life. Dread filled his lungs when she ghosted a hand over her belly; it was big, like about to pop big, or just popped, maybe. Sam wasn't sure. All he knew was that it sent ice through his veins and choked him into motionless silence.

"I understand why you did it. I had no idea that was how you really felt. You never told me." She said, her eyes starting to glisten as her lip trembled a little. Sam wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he couldn't move. Her words were killing him. "I know you don't love me anymore, Sam." She sniffed her nose and looked away for a moment before continuing. "But I still love you. I jus'… I just wanted to say goodbye." Tears flowed down her face and she quirked a weak smile before wiping them away.

 _I didn't mean to, Ali. I would never… It was the s-siren…_ "Don't go..." Sam whispered. It was all he could manage to get out.

He jumped when a soft, shrill sound filled the forest. Ali turned and smiled again before meeting Sam's eyes with a gentle acceptance. "I have to. He needs me."

She walked closer to Sam and leaned down just as Sam realized what he heard. A baby was crying.

"Maybe you'll get to meet him someday, Sam. You'd be proud; our little boy is perfect." Ali leaned down and kissed Sam on the forehead, lingering just a split second longer than Sam thought she would. Then she stood and smiled once more before the joy was wiped from her face. She walked away, down the path, and said just one thing.

"I'll miss you Sam."

* * *

 **A/N: Leave a review. See you next week. (Passes the tissues because I needed them too.)**


	44. Intermission

**A/N: Vivi here! Don't get too excited, y'all. This is a mini-chapter, posted for austinmomma93 (I totally get it!). It's just one scene and is literally like 1/12th the length of 'Into the Abyss'.**

 **The last chapter was really (long, busy, heart-wrenching), so I hope 'Intermission' can quell some of the unrest that is probably going on over 'Into the Abyss'. As a reader, I too hate terrible cliffhangers and therefore I will not make you suffer -too- much. Even so, this is the last chapter until NEXT MONDAY (the fic isn't over, I promise). As always, don't forget to leave me a review and tell me what you think! Also, this sentence is a shameless plug for my other fic 'John's Boys' (people seem to like it, check it out), totally different AU, no Ali whatsoever. It's got like eight chapters or something by now.**

 **Enjoy this mini-chapter titled 'Intermission'!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Maybe you'll get to meet him someday, Sam. You'd be proud; our little boy is perfect." Ali leaned down and kissed Sam on the forehead, lingering just a split second longer than Sam thought she would. Then she stood and smiled once more before the joy was wiped from her face. She walked away, down the path, and said just one thing._

 _"I'll miss you Sam."_

* * *

"He's in his room, then?" Dean asked, pacing back and forth in the library at the bunker with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. It felt more like a hug than anything else, something to calm him down from his adrenaline high. He'd promised himself he wouldn't drink his sorrows away this time. The last time he felt like this was right before they got Francesca the demon out of Li. He got so drunk for so long that he forgot to bandage Li's bullet wound and charge his phone. Bobby thought he'd died. Or that the demon chained down in the dungeon had broken loose and killed him. Needless to say, Bobby wasn't happy when he found Dean passed out in the library surrounded by bottles. But pain like this was hard to deal with at the best of times. And now… _I can do it. For her. She'd want me to be there for Sam._

"Yes. I don't think he knew who I was." Cas said slowly, leaning against one of the tables. It took a lot out of him to stay calm and not start throwing things. He'd seen Dean do that. Maybe it would help. But he didn't think putting holes in the bunker's walls would be worth the repercussions. After all, those walls had to remain mostly intact to preserve the warding put in place by the original Men of Letters. "I put him to sleep for the time being. His emotional and mental states were… unstable."

"Thanks, Cas. Hey, you should rest too, man. You look drained." Dean said, looking Cas up and down before continuing on to the other side of the room like it could make this situation any easier to bear.

"I should think I have reason to." Cas snapped.

Dean was surprised by how much anger Cas' words stirred up in his stomach. Hot, roiling, dangerous resentment bubbled up and he almost started cursing the angel out. He wanted to blame Cas for what had happened. If Cas had just called, if he had just left one hole in the warding so he could find her, if he had moved quicker or poofed right into the operating room instead of the hall, if he had just- but Dean knew it wasn't Cas' fault. It wasn't Sam's fault. It was the siren's fault. They should have known it wasn't some stupid jinx. He shouldn't take his grief and misery out on Cas, especially not violently like that. He didn't want to break his hand again.

Dean let one long, anguished sigh escape his too tired, too strung out body. "I guess you do." At least he'd finally stopped shaking.

Cas looked away and mirrored Dean's actions, letting go of a heavy sigh. Then he spoke, his voice low and even. "I asked one thing of you, Dean."

Dean turned and slowed in his pacing. "Huh?"

"I asked you to tell me where you were whenever you went somewhere new. Allison's warding was tearing my head apart for the better part of half an hour and I could do nothing to help her. I looked, but with your warding I cannot find you, any of you. I couldn't even call; a _demon smashed my phone_. Again. Another ambush." Cas took a deep breath and had to make a conscious effort to lower his volume. "It came down to _seconds_ , Dean." Cas said, his shoulders hanging low and his body feeling so much heavier than usual.

The hunter stopped pacing, gazing in fixed realization at the angel who reminded him of yet another failure on his part. It was about a minute before Dean spoke, cutting through his own painful internal monologue. "Guess I… guess I let you down, then, huh? Again. Let everyone down, right?" Dean looked to the floor, unwilling to meet the ice in Cas' eyes for any longer. "But that's just what I do. That's just who I am, ain't it? Who I've always been and who I will always be."

Cas looked up to the ceiling; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. The older Winchester was beating himself down _again_ for something that boiled down to simple human error. Cas had seen humans being stressed for centuries. They did unusual things when they felt threatened, like behave irrationally or forget vital information. That was how Tristram died, after all. He thought he could defeat a king singlehandedly. "That is not who you are. You are Dean Winchester. You and Sam brave insurmountable odds to protect innocents and you are among the most experienced in your field of expertise."

"And people still die. Even when we're on the case, someone always dies. Hell, this case alone we lost three men. And now I know I can't even protect my family, let alone those clueless civilians. I can't save the ones who keep me going and pretty soon I'll have no one, Cas. I'll be alone. Or dead. Take your pick. Either way, there will be no one for me to let down anymore."

"You will not be alone, Dean. Not ever." Cas said, staring off into space for a few seconds as he tried once more to take the malice out of his tone. "Not so long as I am around to protect the Winchester clan."

"Thanks, Cas." Dean said flatly, not believing a word that came out of the angel's mouth. He'd leave sooner or later, Dean was sure. He was starting to think the whole 'demon hunting' thing was just a front, an excuse to not come around as often. He kicked at an invisible pebble on the floor before looking up. "How long do you think it'll be before she wakes up?"

Cas shrugged. "As soon as the grace left in her dissipates, I suppose. It could take a few days to finish working. I have never healed a woman and child who had sustained such damage before. In all honesty, I am not even certain she will wake up. Only a fraction of light was left by the time I got to her. I pulled as much back to her as I could, but I'm not sure it was complete. The child's soul is bright enough to obscure my view of Allison's... You should be aware that a human cannot live with only part of their soul; it rots them from the inside out, drives them mad. If a piece is lost… it is best to remove it all."

A sharp sinking feeling dug into Dean's gut. "What happens to them? The people whose souls are gone?" He asked quietly, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Their soul moves on to its final destination; heaven or hell. The body remains intact with all its intelligence and memories, but the humanity of the individual is lost. Any compassion, kindness… love that they had before ceases. It is a… difficult existence." Cas couldn't bring himself to look in Dean's direction. Yes, Dean had made a mistake. Human error. But Cas hadn't even been strong enough to hold onto the entirety of Allison's soul as it slipped away. He didn't know if part of it left this world and there was no way for him to tell until she woke up and started behaving strangely. Cas had failed Dean. And… he may have destroyed both Allison and Sam. Because tearing Allison's soul would leave her a selfish, arrogant, ruthless woman; she wouldn't be the Allison they knew anymore. She wouldn't care for Sam- for any of them- Cas didn't know how Sam would handle that.

"I- I don't know why I didn't remember to pray to you, Cas." Dean's voice was barely a whisper. It made Castiel uncomfortable when Dean cried, but he knew excessive lacrimation was one way humans attempted to heal after trauma, even if their eyes were unharmed. It seemed to help Allison back when he first got to know her. He had never tried it himself, but it looked soothing and seemed to cause other humans to act favorably toward the affected individual. "Was there anything irreversible? Anything that couldn't be fixed?"

"I will discuss that information when Allison and Sam are awake. This needs to be a discussion in which _all_ of us have a voice."

* * *

 **A/N: Leave me a review, question, comment, dream for this fic... You never know, I might make it come true... See ya next week!**


	45. There are Children Present

**A/N: Vivi here! So super excited to post this chapter. No, wait. It was the next chapter I was so excited to post. Maybe the next one will come sooner than planned... Hope the suspense wasn't too much for you. Hopefully you saw the bonus chapter from midweek last week called 'Intermission'. I couldn't torture you for that long. Language warning (as always). Here's the next chapter!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Was there anything irreversible? Anything that couldn't be fixed?"_

 _"I will discuss that information when Allison and Sam are awake. This needs to be a discussion in which_ all _of us have a voice."_

* * *

Cas said I woke up about six hours after Sam… yeah. After we got back, I guess. I knew right where I was, in my room, and Cas had been right there when I opened my eyes, giving me a shirt and pants to put on instead of the hospital gown I had apparently been put in at a hospital. I didn't remember that, but I remembered every little detail of what went down in the club.

He said I almost died. That the baby almost died. That Dean had killed the siren and Sam was a wreck from the moment he returned to normal. But it was Sam who prayed just in time for my guardian angel to come and try to fix me. The bleed into my lung was fixed right away, and he repaired the baby's concussion and brain bleed immediately- before my lung, actually- but then… Cas said there were demons at the hospital. Followers of some head honcho demon named Tristram, who was apparently best buds with Francesca.

Splendid news to wake up to after almost dying.

We had been tracked to our motel, where a small group of demons were already planning an ambush. When my tattoo went off, Cas said he went to our motel and fanned out from there, calling for us as he went. That's how he found the demons, but as soon as they saw him searching for something, they drove away in a black car. He figured they were running from him. Turns out they knew about my warding, that one of them was for 'illness' and was linked to Cas. Some of them went straight to the nearest hospital and clinics and set to work on finding us.

The anesthesiologist in the OR was a demon. The guys had been that close to death. Because of me.

Cas also said- and he asked me to keep this from the guys if I could- that he was still really struggling to gain full access to his grace. He wasn't like a human, or anywhere near that drained, but not as strong as he needed to be. He healed the most emergent wounds in the baby, then my body before bringing me to the bunker, where he left a sliver of grace to keep working while he was retrieving the guys and putting the demons down. In his state, he couldn't heal fast enough to completely fix me and still get the guys out of danger before something irreversible happened. And apparently he could only zap one person at a time, which left him breathless when he returned to hunt down the demons. I grinned when he said even the weakest angel could outrun a demon, any day.

"Thanks, Cas." I said, tears filling my eyes as I sat in bed with Cas perched on the edge of my mattress. My back rested up against the headboard and my lap was covered with my wonderfully familiar plaid comforter. Both of my hands cradled the tiny bump I'd almost lost and soothed over it every once in a while to let the little fella know I was still there. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"They are my family, too, Allison." Cas said, his eyes soft and tired in the dim light of my desk lamp. " _All_ of them."

I threw my arms around him and squeezed. Cas wasn't used to hugs, but he seemed to be getting better at it the more I pressured him into them. He only hesitated for four seconds this time before returning the embrace. "Don't ever change."

"You should rest." He said, ending the hug with a warm smile. "Give that grace a chance to work _with_ your body instead of against it. You must still be very sore."

"Can't deny that." I shrugged. It wasn't the worst pain I'd ever had, but it was an annoying, moderate, all over ache that radiated and pulsed in my stomach, my ribs, my head. Anywhere Sam- anywhere I was hit. "Cas, can the baby feel any pain right now? Is he aching like I am?" I asked, the realization that my baby might be drowning in misery hitting me hard and fast.

"No." Cas said, shaking his head slightly. "The grace was to heal the child first, then begin work on you. I suspended the child's nociceptors as soon as I touched you. The sensation of pain alone can cause damage and any injuries sustained in a fetus can have… unfortunate consequences." Cas glanced quickly to my stomach and a slow smile spread across his face before he met my gaze again. "Your baby is actually sleeping comfortably right now."

"He is?" I asked, looking down in surprise at the curved skin in my hands. With everything going on, I never would have expected the kid to be snoozing. Not when I was constantly cramping up as the grace slowly and painfully healed me. And especially not after I sat up so quickly after waking in a panic. The adrenaline had me fully alert before Cas even looked up from the desk.

"He likes when you do that." Cas nodded to my hands, which were rubbing over my skin and patting the bump softly and rhythmically every now and then. "It's very calming for him."

"Well I'll keep doing it then. Just for you, sweetie." I smiled down at the bump and let a yawn out; it had been brewing for a while already. "I can't thank you enough, Cas."

Cas looked away and lost all the humor in his expression. "Do not thank me yet. You told Sam you were pregnant. They know. And I am no longer obligated to withhold information from them."

 _Shit._ It was the only thing that came to mind at Cas' words. Thank goodness the baby couldn't hear my thoughts; I'd have corrupted his poor innocent mind already. "Sam heard me? But he was…"

"He remembered that, at least. He likely remembers the entire event."

"Likely? What does that mean?" I asked, confused. "Either he does or he doesn't. What did he say?"

"Nothing. I put him to sleep before I left to eliminate the demons who tracked you. He is still unconscious in his bedroom, but has no life threatening injuries. I was told that he 'had a meltdown' after returning to his senses and immediately told Dean what he heard. From what I understand, that was the last thing he conveyed."

"So- he just passed out in the club? But you said he prayed…?"

"He was with Dean when they entered the operating room, but he was unstable, acting strangely. Sam did not recognize me when I returned for him." Cas frowned. "I believe he recalls every detail because he withdrew into himself; he did not react to anything happening after he entered the OR, could not recognize myself or Dean, refused to speak or make eye contact… I thought it best to let his mind rest while his body began repairing itself."

"Is he okay? What happened to make him like that?"

Cas looked me dead in the eye. "He harmed you in a way that he had never imagined he could. Did you think that would have no effect on him?"

My mouth fell open a bit when I realized what had happened. "He- he's tearing himself apart because a siren made him hit me?"

"Because a siren made him nearly kill you. Yes."

I ripped the comforter off my legs and shot off the bed, away from Cas… Who promptly got between me and the door. "I need to see him, Cas. I need to tell him it's not his fault." I said, reaching around Cas to grip the door's handle.

"He is sleeping, Allison, and will not wake for a few more hours. Even if you induced a nociceptive stimulus, he would not regain consciousness. It is not natural sleep." Cas said, unmoving as I tried to pry the door open behind him.

"But I-" I jerked hard on the handle. "Gotta see him!" I jerked again, only to lose my grip and fall. Or I would have fallen, had Cas not grabbed my arm and pulled me back on my feet.

"It is best to let him rest, Allison." Cas' voice was quiet and soothing, but I was a ball of worry at that point. "You should do the same."

"But he's _hurting_." I said, looking at the door again while I wringed my hands. My voice was little more than a whisper by the time I looked back at Cas. "He needs me."

"Sleep." Cas said, nodding to the bed. "Please." That sounded like less of a request and more of a demand in disguise.

"No…" I whined, feeling my eyes start to tear up again. "Jus' let me- let me through." My arms went for the handle again, but Cas thwarted my attempt at freedom. He hugged me voluntarily, letting some of my tears stain his coat as I continued to push towards the door.

"You have had significant trauma, Allison. So has Sam." Cas pushed me back, holding my shoulders at arm's length and looking me in the eyes, demanding my full attention. "He will wake up tomorrow morning. Until then, you need to rest."

"I'm serious, Cas. Let me go-" I slammed my eyes closed and tried to wriggle out of his hold on me to get to the door.

I didn't struggle for long before someone knocked quietly and my eyes flew open. Cas actually let go, but not before backing me up a few steps. He opened the door and there stood Dean, a surprised smile spreading on his face.

"She appears whole, but remain vigilant." Cas whispered, probably trying to keep me from hearing him. The statement confused me and Dean's kid-at-Christmas reaction was even more confounding, but I couldn't dwell on it for long.

" _Dean."_ I sobbed, feeling my cheeks get hot as more tears pushed their way out. When I saw him last he had been fighting for his life in the club, body slamming Sam away from me so I could get to the siren. I thought Sam might have killed him; that was part of my panic when I woke up. But here he was, just like Cas said. Dean was okay, if a little rough around the edges. I ran past Cas and threw myself into Dean's arms.

Dean gave the best hugs.

"Shh, shh. Hey." He held me tight and pushed me back into my room. I heard the door close and when I looked over Dean's shoulder though blurry eyes, Cas was gone. "It's okay. Everything's okay. There's nothing to be scared of here. You don't have to cry."

I kept crying anyway. Ugly crying, complete with snot, gasps, tears, and aching sobs. I was overloaded and hitting my limit; guess I really was as exhausted as Cas made me out to be.

"Hey, listen. I'm glad you're sane and home in one piece, but it's late. Why are you up?" Dean asked, not breaking away in the slightest. I was glad; he was so warm and if there was one thing that comforted me in any situation, it was warmth. Living, reassuring body heat, preferably.

"Just… opened m'eyes, I guess. Cas 'as tellin' me stuff." I stammered through the sobs, which I was honestly trying to fight. It was a losing battle.

"What kind of stuff?"

" _Sam_."

I heard Dean sigh as he rested his chin on my head. "Sam will be okay. He just needs time. He should be the one worrying about you, not the other way around." Dean sounded stern and I wasn't sure why. Was he… was he angry with Sam for what the siren did?

One sarcastic laugh burst through the gasping sobfest. "Are you serious? All I do is worry about you guys."

"We're okay. Promise." Dean said, releasing me. I hung on for a few more seconds before stepping back. I wondered briefly why his skin felt so warm; yeah, it was nice, but I wasn't cold and his skin still felt hot. _Hope he's not getting-_

When I absently wiped my tears away, something crusty scratched across my face. My hand came back red. I completely lost my train of thought and almost jumped.

Then I looked at Dean. He was still bloody and bruised and had one whopper of a black eye discoloring his overly flushed cheeks. There were a couple bandages taped to his arms and a small one on his face, but some little cuts were left out in the open, oozing every now and then. "Is all that from when you…"

Dean nodded soberly and shrugged. "Kid learned from the best."

I grimaced, trying to decide if any of his injuries needed immediate attention. "You're all patched up, right? Did Cas help?" I asked, sniffing back the snot that threatened to leak out of my nose.

"No… nah, Cas was in here, monitoring you. I did this all by myself." Dean feigned pride as he motioned to his face and arms. Then he shrugged. "Got the worst of it."

"Cas didn't heal you?"

"He was a little preoccupied… and not a very happy camper."

"Oh. Well… Can I help you get the rest?" I asked, trying to clear my head and stop crying. Having a task to focus on would take my mind off of all this.

"Nothing's bleeding anymore. I'll be okay like this. But I see Cas didn't clean you up at all, even if he healed you. You have a little something right…" Dean motioned to my whole body with a faked sneer. "Yeah."

I snorted a laugh and wiped the tears away again, getting more of my own blood on my shirt and arm. "He says I'm not allowed to leave my room." I rolled my eyes. "Wants me to sleep."

"I agree on both fronts. But I'll bring you a washcloth and some warm water while you change, okay? As long as you promise not to leave the room." Dean said, crossing his arms.

"I won't leave my room." I said, crossing my own arms and sniffing again. "It's like a prison in here between you and Cas…"

Dean rolled his eyes and left, closing the door. I put on a pair of shorts and a loose shirt so I could reach all the places that were still stained while remaining decent.

He came back a few minutes later with the water and cloth before leaving again. I cleaned up and sat on my bed, glaring at the murky red water. _How am I supposed to sleep knowing Sam is still hurt and beating himself up for hurting me?_ I blew my nose and let a frustrated growl escape.

"What was that?" Dean asked from beyond my door.

"Have you been standing there this whole time?" I asked, surprised. He came in and shut the door behind him.

"No, I was coming back from the kitchen and heard it all the way down the hall. What's goin' on?" Dean asked, not looking too concerned. It seemed that he had a pretty level head if the worst thing in the room was a crybaby.

"I feel bad." I mumbled, hanging my head.

"Uh… M-morning sickness bad, er…?" Now Dean looked completely out of his element.

 _Wha- oh. Right. They know. No point in denying it now. Cas will just tell them I'm lying if I say otherwise._ "No." And the tears were back.

"You gotta give me a little more to go on, Li. Contrary to popular belief, I do not understand women. Or pregnancy. At all." Dean sat next to me on the bed. When I didn't speak for a solid minute, he broke the silence. "This is hell for you, isn't it? Sam, the baby, demons- you got a full range of topics to stress about. You're not even thinking about sleep, are you?"

"Can't." I muttered, looking down at my hands, which were still a little red from my hemoglobin. "There's no way."

"Kid's not keeping you up, right?" Dean asked. I glared at him and instantly felt bad about it, looking away after just a second. "I, uh, I read somewhere that they can move around when you're trying to sleep. They don't exactly sleep when you do. Is that right?"

"That's right." I soothed one hand down my stomach and sighed. "Cas said he was asleep, though. And he won't start moving for a few more weeks. At least that I can feel."

"It's a he?" Dean asked eagerly, turning to fully face me. "How do you already know?"

"I don't- I just call him a boy because he _feels_ like a boy. I don't know. I've never been pregnant with a girl, so I don't exactly have a great frame of reference." I shrugged and sniffed again. "I don't want to find out until he's here. Well, or she. I don't know."

"I'm sure he'll be just as great if he's a she." Dean said with a tiny smile. "So if it's not the kid, why do you feel bad?"

"You're hurt, Sam feels like shit, and they're both because of me. Why would I not feel bad?"

"This wasn't your fault, Li. There was a fucking siren under our noses the entire time. She's the one who did all this."

"But Sam is upset because of me."

"No, it's because of what _he_ did to _you_. If he'd done that to any other human, he'd feel bad, sure, but he wouldn't shut down. He did it to _you_. He's crazy about you and now his brain can't seem to handle what that bitch made him do."

"Language, mister. There are children present." I nudged his shoulder with my own, feeling a mischievous smirk pull at my lips.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, bud." Dean grinned, but it soon faded away and he looked to the ground. "He told me you were pregnant and then he… He thinks he killed his own kid, Li. Cas put him out before we knew you and junior were gonna make it."

"He thinks he killed _his_ kid?" I asked, not making the connection. _Do they know about what Francesca did? How could they? Cas doesn't even know…_

"Well, yeah. Him and you had an 'oops' the other day, remember?" There was a pregnant pause. "It _is_ Sam's kid, isn't it?" Dean asked, suspicion and confusion mixing in his expression.

 _OH SHIT._ I thought as I realized what was going on in Dean's head. What must have happened in Sam's too. _They think the baby is Sam's, that the pills he asked me to take didn't work. They think he's a brand new Winchester. Just days old._ I looked down again, at the tiny bump only I could have noticed. _What are they gonna do when they find out he's already twelve weeks along? What if they think I cheated on Sam? I can't tell them what Francesca did; they'd fight over the kid. They can't both be the father. One of them will win and the other will leave. And knowing Dean, he'll be the one walking away._ I took a deep breath to try and calm down. _I can… I can tell them what Francesca did. Just without some of the details. Yeah. That should work. But only if they ask._

 _Gotta give them a biology lesson though. Movement after two days? Kid's just a ball of cells at that point. They outta know better than that._

"I don't want to talk about it right now." I said, crawling onto my bed and curling up under the comforter.

Dean reached over and tugged on my foot, wiggling it back and forth. "Hey, it's okay. This happens. Those pills aren't completely effective all the time. And I mean, you couldn't have picked a better guy to knock you up." There was humor in Dean's voice.

I ignored him, tugging the blanket up and over my head as the stupid tears returned.

The humor was gone when he spoke again. "Li, we're gonna help you. We're in it for the long haul." He let go of my foot and sighed. "Even if it's not Sam's kid."

I hoped the sobs couldn't make it past the comforter.

Especially when Dean laid down beside me on top of the blankets and hugged me close. "We're not going to abandon you. Ever."

I sobbed myself to sleep, feeling safe, warm, and most of all, _loved_ in Dean's arms.

* * *

 **A/N: I decided to post the next chapter right after this one. Surprise! I really just want to get it out there. Debating on where to end this fic and start the continuation of it. Because, y'know, when you pull yourself in like this, you can't just abandon the plot. There's gotta be a baby- and he or she has to be raised, right? Leave me some words!**


	46. Feel Something

**A/N: Vivi here! As promised, the next chapter. Might do a mid-weeker again... Favorite and follow the story/me to stay up to date...**

 **As always, language warning.**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"We're not going to abandon you. Ever."_

 _I sobbed myself to sleep, feeling safe, warm, and most of all, loved in Dean's arms._

* * *

Sam woke eighteen hours after Cas brought him to the bunker. The dreams had felt so real- he wasn't even sure he was actually awake. All he knew was that he was in pain. Emotional. Physical. He didn't want to wake up, to enter the new scene; he also couldn't stop it. As soon as he opened his eyes he was reminded of exactly what had happened. And everything made sense.

He immediately tried to stop thinking. As if the dreams hadn't been bad enough, everywhere his mind turned was painful or bitter, reminding him of better times only to turn sharply back to the blood on his hands. Memories of Ali giggling beside him in bed as they kissed, then of his hand bashing her head into the floor. Memories of training with her, seeing her dedication and spirit undeterred by all the obstacles they placed in her path, then seeing the fear in her eyes as she begged him to stop beating her. As she said those words that haunted him, that gave him all the reason he would have needed to drop everything and take her far from any danger, take her somewhere safe where they could start a life away from all the darkness of the world. She hadn't even finished the word when he watched the light leave her eyes and blood start to pool underneath her. And he'd seen red through the entire exchange. He had been furious. He had been fully in control; he wished he had been just an observer like in his dream. But he knew exactly what he was doing.

And now he couldn't bring himself to move. It didn't matter that he didn't know where he was. It didn't matter that his head and shoulder throbbed with every beat of his heart; those were just highlights in the constant ache that the rest of his body felt. He didn't care about any of it.

He had ripped Ali right out of his own hands. She was gone because of _him_.

Dean was camped out at Sam's desk, where he'd been all night with only the dim old lamp on, quietly reading up on the timeline of prenatal care, maternal care, and inevitably, labor. He was trying to distract himself from the nightmare that was happening all around him. He even had a blanket around his shoulders. The bunker was uncharacteristically cold for some reason. Or maybe it was the fever. He tried to ignore that too. Bad time to get sick. Everyone needed him to be sharp and reliable and he'd try his hardest to be just that. How much harm could a little cold really do?

Sam didn't need to move for Dean to know he had awoken. The quickened, hitched breaths were enough.

"You're okay, Sam." Dean said softly, not wanting to alarm the man and get a negative or excessively physical response. "We're in the bunker." He set the laptop on the desk and pulled his chair noisily over to the side of Sam's bed, expecting him to at least look up.

Sam stared hollowly at the ceiling, fully aware that Dean was with him. He wondered why his brother wasn't yelling or cursing or breaking things like he usually did when they lost another family member. Maybe Sam had been out for longer than he thought. Maybe Dean was past that stage and was now in the process of rebuilding what little peace he had. Sam wished he would throw things. Anything was better than a false sense of hope.

"You there?" Dean asked, frowning at the lack of response. Cas had said that Sam was unstable when he'd arrived at the bunker- that was why Cas put him to sleep- but the guy should at least be up to talking by now. The shock should have mostly worn off already. "You remember what happened?"

Sam closed his eyes and tried not to think. A single, wet cough made it through his stillness.

Dean sighed, taking that as a yes. "You can't run from this, Sam. Checking out is the last thing Li would want you to do. We need you here, right now. Fully present and firing on all cylinders. It's not about you any more, Sam. This is about Li. And the baby."

Again, Sam made no effort to respond in any way.

"Sam, Li's alive." Dean said flatly, as if Sam should have already known that. A twinge of guilt flashed in the back of his mind at the harshness of his tone, but damn it, he was tired. His family needed to stop flirting with death for a hot second so he could get some actual sleep. So he could really rest. His patience had long since run out and frustration was quickly taking its place. The developing soreness in the back of his throat wasn't helping anything either. "And I think the kid will probably be fine, too. You were the one who saved 'em, Sam. You called Cas when the thought never even crossed my mind. He said- he said another forty three seconds and the baby would have died. Something about a fetal concussion and a brain bleed. Two more minutes and the tear in one of Li's arteries would have pumped enough blood into her lung to collapse it. She wouldn't have been able to breathe at all, even with the vent. _You saved them_."

Sam still didn't move. Dean lying to him only made the pain worse. Why would he do that? Couldn't he see what it was doing to his little brother? Ali was gone. Dean shouldn't get his hopes up; Sam shouldn't let him. If they did, Sam might not live past the letdown. Dean would though. Dean was strong. He still had Cas and Bobby; they'd help him through it. Through all three of the losses.

"Now stop sulking and get something to eat. I need you to help me with some things." Dean said, standing. He flicked the bedroom light on, revealing for the first time the pain lines and dark circles under Sam's eyes.

Dean had the same ones. He understood why Cas hadn't healed them; the angel had every right to be angry. Still, it surprised him a little that Cas hadn't at least taken Sam's pain away; Cas must have put him under knowing that Sam would feel every bruise and cut as he slept, unable to wake and seek relief. "Maybe we'll clean you up first."

It took a lot of coaxing and a couple mild threats to get Sam to even acknowledge him with a dull glance. Dean tried to see past the trauma in his brother's eyes, tried to gauge how deep it had shaken him. He really couldn't make a great guess with Sam not speaking at all, but if he had to, he'd say that Sam still wasn't completely with it. Maybe he had a concussion. Maybe he couldn't process what was happening. Maybe Dean had hurt the kid's throat in the fight and that was why he wouldn't talk. Maybe he was internalizing his pain and letting it rip him to pieces in condemned, numb silence. There weren't any good causes that came to mind.

After tugging his brother into a sitting position and waiting patiently for the deep coughing fit to wind down, it only took Dean a few minutes to wipe the crusted blood away with a warm washcloth and tend to the injuries that needed help healing. He'd pushed Sam into the bar at one point during the fight and guy landed on a barstool. It broke and one of the splintered wooden legs had run right along Sam's ribs, probably following the groove between them from back to front before it broke free. Dean asked Sam to remove his shirt, but he could have been talking to a wall and gotten the same response. He huffed and carefully wrestled the shirt off for his brother; it was bloody and torn, earning it a one way ticket to Trashland. The sight beneath the shirt wasn't comforting; plenty of bruises, mostly small, light ones, but a big angry dark blotch covered his right shoulder from the base of his neck to halfway down his arm. "Guess I shouldn't have thrown you by your arm like that."

At the club, siren-Sam had tried to knock Dean in the nose, but Dean moved and Sam missed. Dean took advantage of the arm now extended beside his head and grabbed it, turning to pull hard and throw his 'little' brother over his body and onto the floor with a sickening pop. The result at the time had been miniscule; Sam kept right on coming. Now though, Dean was sure he'd torn something in there; how had he not noticed the bruise yesterday? It showed over the guy's collar and everything.

Dean resolved to get some ice after he finished with the barstool injury. The flinches and gasps that he got from Sam while he plucked splinters out of the gash in his side with tweezers served to give Dean a little hope that the real Sammy would be back soon. At least the guy was feeling _something_ , even if it was pain.

A couple of cuts had started to ooze again when Sam sat up, so those were addressed next. Dean was glad his brother wasn't fighting him, but the vacant look was unnerving. "Anywhere else hurt?" He asked, standing back from the bed to look Sam over one more time. There was blood on his pants, but he didn't want to push Sam into a situation where he might have a violent reaction. "You gonna let me look at your legs or are you just gonna keep ignoring me like a five year old?"

Sam just kept ignoring him. "Alright then." Dean dug around in Sam's dresser until he found a clean shirt, which he promptly tossed into his brother's lap. "Let's head to the kitchen. Eggs and bacon for breakfast. Probably some fruit too. You must be hungry by now."

Sam looked down at the shirt and slowly, painfully, put it on. He barely moved his bad arm. As expected, he didn't stand.

"C'mon, Sam. Wakey wakey eggs and bakey." Dean clapped his hands twice like he was calling a dog. A dog would've listened. Sam didn't even flinch. "You missed dinner last night. Are you trying to tell me you aren't hungry? Look, even if you're not, you have to eat something so you can take some serious pain meds without getting a stomach ache. Ice will only go so far."

The vacant look hadn't left his brother; Dean was at the end of his rope. He hadn't slept all night; first, there had been a possibility that Li would wake up soulless and that was stressful enough on its own. She wouldn't be the woman they loved but they'd have to put up with her until… Then, she did wake up and seemed pretty normal, but she wanted to see Sam so badly that she was nearly hysterical. Dean managed to get her back to sleep- she was still exhausted, so that helped- but then Sam. Sam was still out cold and hadn't so much as moved since Dean went in to see him after Cas dropped him off. Cas said he might not be okay for a long time; how was Dean supposed to sleep knowing that? And with Cas being an ass, withholding information from him and guilt-tripping him, he had never felt more powerless _in his own home._

So when Sam kept up the ragdoll charade, Dean almost growled. "You _have_ to be in pain. I know you are. Your side and your head are probably throbbing and I'm pretty sure I messed up your shoulder during the fight." He walked back to stand in front of Sam and bent to look right in Sam's eyes. "Hey, listen to me."

Sam looked through Dean.

"Sam. Look at me."

Sam didn't move. Something dark began to boil deep in Dean's belly and it scared him a little. That wasn't a feeling he got often. It happened in Hell, when Li was kidnapped by shifters, and when they figured out that a siren had Sam. All those times, the source of the darkness had been a threat, something that would hurt himself or his family; now it was Sam. Sam was hurting himself. Dean didn't know what to think.

"Snap out of it, bitch!"

Sam didn't even flinch.

Dean left.

* * *

 **A/N: Follow... Favorite... Review...**


	47. Little Monster

**A/N: Vivi here! This week's been crazy; then again, Thanksgiving always is with my huge family. Also, I don't have Wifi at my house currently. We just moved. I debated not posting at all… but I love you guys and I couldn't do that to you! So here it is: the next chapter.**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Snap out of it, bitch!"_

 _Sam didn't even flinch._

 _Dean left._

* * *

Dean didn't fall asleep with me. I hadn't expected him to. He needed to be with Sam. So I wasn't surprised when I woke and he was nowhere to be seen. For the first time in a long time, I woke up completely alone. It felt weird.

So, naturally, I got up, put a thick sweater on, and set about trying to find someone. Anyone.

I found Dean.

He didn't look good.

"I didn't even know we had that." I said softly as I entered the library. Dean was on his laptop, absently staring at the screen. More than several beer bottles, a bottle of whiskey, and an unmarked container of clear liquid sat next to him, keeping him company. I knew the whiskey bottle had been at least half gone when we left for Orem, but _damn_. Boy could hold his drink.

Even at the most inappropriate times.

"What?" He asked, not looking up from the screen.

"All that juice."

Dean looked over his collection and grabbed the unmarked bottle, inadvertently knocking two of the empty beer bottles over. The shifty, unlabeled thing was the only container that still held alcohol, apparently. "'s new. Mostly."

I sat across from him and roughly pushed the laptop closed. "You went out and bought alcohol instead of staying with Sam?" The edge in my voice apparently didn't phase the drunkard.

"'e's fine." Dean took a long swig of the clear stuff and winced after swallowing it. "'e woke up 'n ever'thin'."

"Is he okay or is he just awake?" I asked, planning to grab the bottle when he set it down again. I was beyond glad that Sam was out of his 'unnatural' sleep, but if Dean had the time to go out, buy so much alcohol, and proceed to get inebriated, why didn't Sam come to talk to me? He had to have woken up before me. Something bad must be going on.

"How should I know? 'e wouldn' talk ta me." Dean glared at me and held my eyes as he took another sip. "Didn' say 'e wasn' fine. I _asked._ "

"So Sam woke up and you didn't tell me. You went- leaving him _alone_ \- and bought some good ol' fashioned comfort, Dean's style. Is that right?"

"Yup."

I glared right back at him. "What happened to the three beer limit? Remember that?"

"You don' own me." Dean snapped, finishing the bottle and setting it down before he opened the laptop again. "Nobody does."

"What is it with you Winchesters and getting wasted when you feel overwhelmed, huh? Sam did the same thing when he thought he'd have to raise you from a toddler. And now Sam needs you and you went and made yourself as useless as you can be. Why would you do that to him? Why would you do that to _us_? Can't you see that this doesn't accomplish anything?" I shoved the laptop shut again and earned myself an annoyed stare.

"I don' 'ave to defend my reasons. You wouldn' understand." He went to try and open the laptop again, put I smacked my hand down on top of it and nearly growled.

"Well then listen up, you selfish fuck." The tone of my voice- a strident, vintage label of anger, disappointment, and authority- had his attention and managed to wipe the apathetic mask right off his face. I guess I surprised him. "This isn't about you. You don't get to make this about you. This isn't about Sam, either. This isn't about me, or Cas, or the baby- This is about _us_. _We_ need to heal. _We_ need to move past this _._ How the hell are we supposed to put the pieces back together when you're so smashed you can't even stand? Does that sound _fair_ to you? Does making yourself a burden to the rest of us ease your woes? Does doing this make you the kind of person you want to be? Because if you keep coming back to this-" I grabbed a beer bottle and held it up for him to see. I promptly threw it against one of the concrete pillars, where it shattered with a reverberating pop. Dean's eyes grew wide and he looked back to me like I was crazy. Guess I was a little crazy. It had been a long week. "Then I'll have to leave. And it'll be _your_ fault. Because this isn't a safe place for me to make a human. And apparently, this isn't a safe place to heal either, because we just leave our wounded to fight for themselves, or to fight themselves. I hope this is what you wanted. Because it's gonna be all you got real fast, Dean."

I left him alone, looking stunned in the library. The microwave in the kitchen said it wasn't even ten in the morning yet. I let my head fall into my hands and groaned. "Can't I have just one good day?"

* * *

I ignored Dean until two in the afternoon. Well, excluding my venture to put three bottles of water and a plate of toast next to his laptop while he refused to look at me.

He was reading an article about PTSD.

Cleaning helped pass the time, and so did starting my favorite soup. It would cook all day and fill the bunker with the hearty scent of homemade goodness. That was something _I_ really needed; after the chaos of the last few days, a feeling of home was a necessity. Plus, the soup was full of noodles, so Dean would eventually have something in his stomach to absorb the alcohol; I was sure he had more stashed away and probably hadn't stopped drinking yet. I hadn't gone back in the library since I dropped off the water and toast, but I was pretty sure he ignored them. The innocent little Li-Li hurt Dean's ego and he was probably pissed.

Eventually I ran out of things to clean and made grilled cheese sandwiches. Seven of them. One for me and… yeah.

Sam wouldn't respond. Maybe he just fell asleep… again. "Sam?"

 _Is he even awake?_

"Can I come in?" I'd been knocking for at least a minute by now, and it wasn't the quiet kind of knock either. Either he was out cold or he was ignoring me. "I made lunch."

Nothing.

"I- I guess I'll come back again in an hour or so." Sam hadn't answered for breakfast or lunch, or talking, or medical treatment, or anything, really. As I made my way back to the kitchen, I tried not to let it get to me. Being ignored was something I was very used to; my family wasn't exactly affectionate while I was growing up. But Sam? That cut to a whole new level.

With stupid tears poking at my pride, I made my way into the library with Dean's plate. I was intent on forcing something into his stomach before he got alcohol poisoning because that was the _last_ thing any of us needed.

He was down, snoring with his cheek pressing on the keyboard of his dead computer. And the toast was gone. All the water too. Honestly, I was surprised and a little bit touched. Maybe I actually got through to him about his problem for once. I left the cheesy, calorie ridden food next to him and swept up the shattered bottle. While I was disposing of the other bottles, a few clicked together and Dean startled to life.

He turned green almost instantly.

I watched worriedly as he tried to stand and run to the bathroom, but unfortunately, I was right. He couldn't even get to his feet he was so hammered. The mighty Dean Winchester fell right back into the chair and wrapped his arms around his stomach, scrunching his face in pain as it changed from a deep, flushed pink to baby barf green. I would have thought he was hamming it up to make me feel bad about yelling at him, but then he whimpered. _Whimpered._

I had been using a regular old trash bag to round up the glass, and thank goodness those were waterproof. I made it to him just in time to catch the mess. Guess he couldn't hold his liquor as well as I thought.

"I'll hold your hair. Just let it all out." I mumbled as I held the bag under Dean's head.

Dean was still doubled over in the chair when I asked if he was done. All he did was nod. That bag went in the garage and I grabbed a new one just in case.

He was in the same position when I came back. _That can't be comfortable._ "Feel better?"

Dean shook his head and looked up at me with pleading, bloodshot eyes. "'m sorry. 'as a dick move."

 _Shit. He_ is _getting sick._ "Understatement."

"Please don' go. 'm sorry." He cringed again and hung his head, groaning softly. "'m sorry."

I felt the icy edges of my frustration start to melt away. Seemed like a lifetime ago that I wanted to be a doctor; I wanted to help people in a way they couldn't themselves. Dean was in no shape to help himself. I guess that's why I decided against guilt-tripping him. "I'm not gonna leave. Not right now, at least. How do you feel?"

"Like a jerk, 'n sick."

I rolled my eyes. "You are. And you just threw up. I know that part. Your stomach should feel better soon now that it's not loaded with liquor."

"'m sorry."

I knelt in front of him- ignoring the gross smell- and put my hand on his shoulder. _No way he should be radiating this much heat. Even if he did just throw up._ _Red flag._ "Dean, you're burning up. How long have you had a fever?"

"Couple hours aft'r Cas left." Dean mumbled, panting when he wasn't tensing up in pain.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" I yelled, lightly shoving his shoulder.

He moaned at the movement and it took a long few seconds to compose himself. "Not import'nt."

"It _is_ important, Dean." I huffed, feeling guilty for not connecting the dots sooner. "And it's probably my fault. You were out in the cold for a long time looking for me. You probably have the flu."

"Shit." Dean groaned, tensing up again.

"And drinking didn't help at all, now did it?"

Dean shook his head. "Couldn' handle it."

Part of me wanted to ask if he meant the alcohol or our current situation, but the other part of me knew it was both. He had probably been feverish and nauseous when he started drinking. "I'll get the nasty pink goo and some ibuprofen. Try not to leak on the floor." I left the clean bag with him just in case.

He took the pepto well enough, so we waited a few minutes for that to work before he got the ibuprofen. When that didn't come up after three minutes, I stood. "Time for bed."

All he did was groan weakly. I helped him transition to the futon, which was still in the library and so much closer than his bedroom. He was able to take most of his weight since it was the balance that was an issue, but there was still no way I could have gotten him to his room incident free. "'aven' felt like th's in years." He slurred as I sat him down, pushed him over, and lifted his legs onto the bright red cushion.

"That's because you're sick _and_ drunk. Remember this next time you decide to go over three bottles."

He nodded and curled up, arms still around his stomach. "Th's sucks."

"I know." I left him with a bottle of water, a bucket instead of a bag, and the old green blanket. Just as I was about to leave him be, a thought popped into my head. I ran to his room and dug through his dresser until I found it; I knew he still had it somewhere.

I gingerly slipped the little black car into his hand and he looked up, just grinned sheepishly for a couple seconds before closing his eyes again. "Thanks Mom."

For a moment, I just stared at him. _He has a fever. And he's smashed. He probably doesn't know what he's saying and won't remember any of this. Or he's just trying to be funny._ Even so, a warm feeling filled my heart and I smiled at my little blond boy and his car. _He remembers more than he lets on, I'll bet._ I turned out the light and went to check on my soup.

* * *

I waited two hours before trying Sam again. This time, I didn't bring anything. No food, no medicine, nothing. If he did answer this time, I wanted to talk before anything else happened. "Sam, it's me."

I knocked again, harder this time. "Are you okay?"

"I just want to see you, make sure you're not dying. I can bring you pain medicine, if you want."

"Please open your door, Sam. Or at least tell me I can."

"Are you even alive in there?"

" _Please_ talk to me."

"Why won't you talk to me?"

" _Sam._ "

I stayed outside his door for a long time. My forehead was pressed to the wood, my eyes leaking quietly, my chest trying to stop the upcoming fit because I was so sore from crying so much already. _Why won't he talk to me? Did I do something wrong? Is he mad about the kid? Maybe he thinks I cheated on him; he'd have to know that no one can tell they're pregnant just two days after the 'oops'. He has to know something else happened. They should know what Francesca did to them; I should tell them, all of them. They won't abandon me. Dean said so. But what if Sam hates me now? How could I subject him to that kind of torture by not leaving? He'd have to live with me day after day, knowing what I did to him. They won't tell me to go. Neither of them. And I can't separate them._

 _But I don't want to run anymore._

* * *

When I stumbled back into the kitchen, the microwave told me I'd spent an hour in the hall just stewing in my sorrows. Alone.

So I spent another hour just stewing in my sorrows. Alone. But this time, in the kitchen with my head in my arms on the table. It was almost frustrating that the soup bubbled happily in the background.

"What?" I groaned when I heard shuffled footsteps enter the room. I knew better than to hope that it was Sam. I knew enough to hope that Dean had brought his bucket along with him.

"You okay?"

My head didn't leave my arms. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"Your brother."

"Oh."

A few seconds passed and Dean didn't move away, so I finally looked up at him. Tall, masculine Dean was wrapped up in the green blanket and hunched over, shivering slightly. He'd lost the greenish tinge from earlier, but the overly red fever flush was back. His normally sparkling eyes were dull and irritated, blinking slowly every few seconds or whenever he sniffed his nose. "Getting congested too?" I asked, accidentally letting my exhaustion leak into my voice.

"Yeah. Sorry." He looked away and started to go back towards the library.

"Where are you going?" I asked, almost rolling my eyes at his action.

"Futon."

"I made soup. Want some?" Getting up, I grabbed a bowl and gave the pot a good stir while I waited for an answer.

"Please?" The nasally tone was slightly endearing, I had to admit, but the lack of a slur was the only thing I had been listening for. So far, not one slurred word.

"Sit." I transferred just a little soup into the bowl and set it before Dean, who had obediently, albeit stiffly, sat at the table. "See if this much stays down and we'll go from there."

"I hate being sick."

"I hate when you're sick, too." The touch of humor in my tone didn't go unnoticed.

Dean smiled and poked at a noodle with his spoon. "Three days in a mine'll do that to ya."

"You're just lucky you were so cute."

"What can I say? Been a chick magnet my whole life."

"Eat." We sat at the table, just kind of being there, until he finished the pint-sized portion of soup and pushed the bowl away.

"You should freeze some of that." Dean said, tugging his blanket closer. "I'd love to actually taste it sometime."

"I made it when you were shrunk. I'm not surprised you don't remember, you little monster. Half the time you were just throwing noodles at Cas."

Dean's head tilted and he sniffed, looking utterly confused. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"What? The soup?"

He shook his head and held my eyes. "Little monster."

I blushed and looked down at my hands, folded on the table. "We may have had a few nicknames for you."

Dean barked a single laugh. "Little monster? Really?"

"Kept you from acting up when we were talking about you and the case." I shrugged and grinned at the look of embarrassed realization that settled on Dean's tired face.

"Was I really that bad of a kid?"

I shook my head. "You weren't bad. Just sick and tired and stressed out. Actually, you were a very well behaved eighteen month old. Most of the time." The grin wouldn't leave my face as flash images of tantrums and crayons and food fights and bedtimes passed in my head. "You had your moments, but 'little monster' was just from one of the only songs you'd fall asleep to."

Dean stared at me for a long few seconds before speaking. "You can't just change the lyrics of a Metallica song like that." A sleepy smile encompassed his features and he chuckled before sniffing his nose. "I remember that part."

"What part?"

"You and Sam singing me to sleep when I wore myself out and didn't want to go to bed. Made me feel safe. Like when I listened to heartbeats. I remember having to find a heartbeat in whoever was holding me at the time but I didn't really have a reason. I just… liked the sound. Reassuring, I guess. To know someone's there."

"We wondered about that. That's why you were never left alone when you were awake, even in baby jail. If you couldn't see one of us, you freaked. But now, chick flick moment over. Time to drug up and go back to dreamland, hunter boy."

Dean took whatever I gave to him- just some nausea stuff and a few pain killers that would bring the fever down- and went back to the library while I portioned out a container of soup and set it aside to be frozen later.

I jumped a little when someone spoke. "Li?"

"What's wrong, Dean?" Fearing the worst, I turned, expecting to see vomit or blood or some other horrifying development. He looked fine.

"Nothin', I was just… You can say no, you don't have to, but…" He trailed off, searching for words.

"What, Dean?" _He wants me to sing. I know he does. I can't sing under pressure like that, not when someone over the age of four is listening. It's not going to happen-_

"Could you make a black raspberry pie?"

I stared at him, taking my turn to be confused. "Black raspberry pie?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, y'know, like they have out on the east coast. I've only seen 'em sold at like two places, but they're Sam's favorite and I owe him one. I thought maybe that would bring him out."

"He likes black raspberries?" I asked, surprised. In my experience, those had been hard to come by. Not many stores carried them and their growing season was so short that it made them a hot commodity in my household. We had a few bushes near Mom's apartment that yielded just a few berries every year. Just enough to fall in love with.

"Well, wild ones. Dad used to take us camping and we'd find 'em all the time. We, uh, we froze some the last time we found a big patch. Sam insisted." Dean shrugged again. "I don't think he'd mind if they were put to good use."

"I can do that." I smiled at the thought of finally seeing Sam. The way to a man's heart was through his stomach, after all. "But you can't have a piece until he's had some."

"Deal." He sniffed and sighed. "You know where I'll be."

"Go to sleep, you little monster."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you didn't forget about Dean's deal with Sam regarding the pie... Leave me some words! See you next week!**


	48. Come On Get Higher

**A/N: Vivi here! Wifi is back! This is one of my favorite chapters (probably because it's a little sappy). That being said, I just wanted to say how honored I am to have folks like you who read what comes out of my head. And some of you even like it! *Whaaat?***

 **WaywardInspirations, this one is for you! I hope your Monday is the start of a wonderful new week!**

 **The song referenced in both the title of this chapter and the chapter itself is 'Come On Get Higher' by Matt Nathanson. (It's one of my favorites.)**

 **(All previous warnings apply, by the way: violence, language, etc. etc.)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"Deal." He sniffed and sighed. "You know where I'll be."_

 _"Go to sleep, you little monster."_

* * *

Two hours later, I was covered in flour and pieces of sticky pie crust that ground themselves into my apron. But that pie was finally done in all its home-cooked glory. It was even still bubbling a little through the lattice of crust on top.

Sam definitely had a rough couple days. Dessert before dinner was totally acceptable under these circumstances. I'd even found some ice cream in the freezer.

"Sam?" I knocked at his door with my free hand, the other being occupied by the plate with a bottle of water under my arm. "It's me."

No response.

 _Jerk._ "I'm coming in anyway." I turned the handle quietly and pushed the door open with my foot. "I brought you something yummy."

The lights were off, as I expected them to be. Feeling like a jerk myself, I flipped them on, flooding the room with momentarily brilliant light.

Sam didn't move. He was on his bed, on his left side, half covered by a blanket and still in the pants he wore to the club; I knew, because they were covered in blood. I didn't try to figure out whose. "Sit up and I'll show you what I made just for you."

Not so much as a sigh.

"Keep this up and your ice cream will melt before you get to it." I said, trying to sound lighthearted.

He was like a friggin' statue. Just staring blankly into space, breathing slow and even, arms wrapped around his stomach like it hurt. It probably did. He hadn't eaten in over twenty four hours at this point. Probably had a wicked stomach ache for a few hours at least. Not that ice cream and pie would help that, but still.

With a frustrated sigh, I set the pie and water on his desk and went to kneel beside his bed, where he could see me. I rested my arms on the mattress and rested my chin on my arms before I started talking. I wanted to be at eye level so he had no choice but to look at me. Or through me, at least.

He did look at me. I was honestly a little shocked when his face lit up with recognition and he made eye contact with me. The rest of him didn't move, but his eyes did. That was a start. "Talk to me, Sam. Tell me what you're thinking."

His eyes just searched my face, probably looking for one of the injuries I got at the club.

"I'm fine. Really, I am. Baby is fine too." I said quietly, gently. "I'm dying to tell you about him, but you have to come back first. You have to get up and eat something."

Those hazel eyes stayed glued to mine, but I was starting to think he wasn't hearing a word I was saying. His cheeks were slowly flushing and I could have sworn tears were starting to form. "Listen to me, Sam. You have to hear what I'm saying. Are you getting any of this?"

My heart almost broke when a few tears slipped out and started to darken his pillow. If I'd just looked at his back, I would have no idea that he was weeping. No part of him moved, other than his eyelids. When I cried, my whole face scrunched up; it wasn't the 'pretty girl in a movie cry'. I ugly cried. Snot, sobs, the whole shebang. And here he was, just leaking a little. No heart-testing sobs, no leaky faucet nose, nothing but a few saltwater drops and reddened eyes.

 _What if he's in pain? What if that's why he's crying like this?_ "Sam? What hurts?"

He just squeezed his eyes closed and didn't reopen them.

"Use your words, tough guy. Don't suffer in silence."

A whole lotta nothin' happened.

I reached over and grabbed one of his hands. I tugged it away from holding his stomach and stretched his arm out towards me. My hand and his stayed linked, as best I could make them, between us on the sheets. He wasn't trying to move his at all. I didn't know if that was good thing or a bad thing. "Come on, Sam. Talk to me. Move. Do _something._ "

He wouldn't even open his eyes this time.

"I haven't gotten to talk to you- the real you- in literally _days_ , dude." I waited longer than I should have before continuing. "It's driving me crazy, Sam. You're driving me crazy right now. You know that, right?"

Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. I'd never know, apparently.

"Open your eyes. Look at me. I'm fine. Nothing is wrong with me. I feel great. Aside from being ignored by the person I care about most, which is making me feel pretty damn rejected."

I could have sworn his eyes squeezed shut even tighter.

"Don't act like this is the end of the world, Sam." I whispered sadly, almost pleading with him. "You need to understand something: you didn't hurt me. The siren hurt me. And now she's dead. And I know that you must be feeling pretty shitty about what happened, but it wasn't you. I'm telling you right now, once and for all, _you didn't hurt me_."

If he kept ignoring me, I was just going to slap him. I could feel it coming on. Probably wouldn't help him at all, but it would feel damn good to let him know that he was being an ass. I was tired and my fuse was kind of short at the best of times nowadays.

"You told me you loved me, Sam." I said, coming up with a new topic to try and avoid violence. My mind flashed back to the last bitter thing siren-Sam said to me. 'I loved you, and then you ran from me.' "I had no idea that was how you really felt. You never told me. Was it true? Because it doesn't feel like it right now." The tears starting up in my own eyes somehow leaked into my voice.

At least I got a half sob half sigh that time. _And here comes the ugly cry. Traitorous lacrimal glands._

"I love you, Sam." Even that admission got no response. _Tough crowd._ I tried to brush it off, but his lack of… well, anything stung. A lot. Right down to my soul. "You've got to snap out of this. No way am I going to just sit around until you wither away. I will _not_ say goodbye to you, Sam Winchester. Not like this." I paused to take a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay until I finished spilling my heart. "So you have to come back to me. I'm right here. All you have to do is open your eyes."

No such luck.

I felt the flood that had accumulated in my eyes finally pour out. Talking was getting harder and harder. "Please, Sam. Please say something. Anything. Tell me you love me. Tell me you hate me. Tell me to leave- _anything_." One humiliating sob rocked through my chest and made it out before I could stop it. "I miss you, Sam."

He sobbed again this time, but he tore his hand out of mine. I didn't even get a glimpse of those hazel pools before he turned over, settling stiffly on his other side, facing away from me.

 _Don't slap him. Don't slap him._ I sniffed my nose and stoned myself for more rejection. Walking to the other side of the bed, I knelt before him and just sat there, not touching the bed, not making a sound. His arms had returned to his stomach; if he didn't come around, I'd have to get Dean in here to 'give' him his next dose of pain meds whether he wanted them or not. I'd have to yell at the big brother too, for not at least mentioning to me that his shoulder was messed up. That bruise was painfully obvious from this point of view and I could see the pain lines in Sam's face now that he was laying directly on the damaged joint. No matter how much of a jerk Sam was being, I still cared that he was hurting. It kind of hurt me too. Had been for a while now.

I was at a loss at that point. _What is going on in his head? Is it so bad that he can't even give me a word or a glance out of pity? Maybe all I'm doing is reminding him of the club. He's obviously trying to forget all that, or at least not think about it. But he_ needs _to think about it,_ dammit _. He has to process this whole shit storm before it kills us both._

The noise that filled the room surprised me, but even as broken and pained as it sounded, it felt natural. Organic.

"I miss the sound of your voice." The Matt Nathanson song that I so loved was pouring freely but softly from my heart, my current situation giving it a congested, nasally tinge that I had to admit wasn't the nicest tone in the world. "And I miss the rush of your skin."

Sam's breathing wasn't slow and even anymore. Whether this was torture or therapy for him, I didn't know. I didn't care. As long as I got a reaction from him, I'd keep doing it.

"And I miss the still of the silence, as you breathe out and I breathe in." I paused to sniff the snot back into my nose before it dripped. Really wished I had some tissues about now. "I miss the sound of your voice… Loudest thing in my head. And I ache to remember all the quiet, sweet, perfect words that you said."

 _Isn't that the truth._

"If I could walk on water- if I could tell you what's next, I'd make you believe. I'd make you forget." This time I closed my eyes. _If only…_ "I miss the pull of your heart." I had to stop. A few pent up sobs, teeming with frustration, despair, and hopelessness, needed released. I knew I was skipping around the song. I also knew that I couldn't sing for much longer.

So I let the final lines out as soon as I could. "'Cause everything works, love. Everything works in your arms."

We were both ugly crying then; I could hear him over my own sobbing and the rush of blood pounding in my ears. Part of me really hoped Dean couldn't hear us. Part of me didn't give a shit. If I was losing Sam, I'd grieve however the fuck I wanted.

Then I heard him turn over to ignore me again. My eyes flew open. In that moment, I was sure my eyes were tinged red because I was _furious_. _Oh no you don't._ I stood. I got on the bed.

I shoved Sam's bad shoulder to the mattress, forcing him to look up at me. Straddling him, I put one hand on the bed on either side of his head so he couldn't turn away. He didn't fight me.

He just stared up at me in shock, his latest sob caught in his throat. I didn't care if he reacted anymore. This was about _me_ now.

"You don't get to just check out, Sam." I was almost shouting. _Let Dean listen. Let him hear it all._ "You don't get to go belly up on your whole family. That's not how this works. I know you're in pain. I know you're upset. I'm trying to help you and you just won't let me, now will you? You won't eat the food I make, you won't listen to me talk, you won't say a word- you won't even _look_ at me." I paused to take a deep breath, giving him time to put in a quick word if he wanted.

He didn't want.

"I have to _force_ _you_ to look at me. And here I thought you loved me. Oh, I feel so loved when you _refuse the fucking pie that took me two hours to make_. Have you ever baked a black raspberry pie? Not as simple as it sounds, bucko. It's actually kind of a pain. Tons of seeds in those little suckers."

No response aside from his eyes getting wider and seeming to actually see me for the first time.

"Oh, and it's so loving how you ignored me when I was crying outside your door for an hour. I _needed_ you, Sam. Sure, you're hurting- we're all hurting. I get it. Been there, done that. But isolating yourself like this hurts all of us _more_. This morning, Dean drank until he threw up. Couldn't even make it back to his room, he was so drunk. He feels like shit now because of you. And seeing you kill yourself slowly like this is killing _me_ , tough guy. I hope that's what you wanted when you decided to do this. I _know_ you were lucid when you woke up and Dean was there. I know because he told me. You _chose_ to withdraw. You _chose_ to leave us to fend for ourselves while you pouted in bed."

Now he looked like he was going to start crying again. _Go for it, bud. Won't help you now._

"How am I supposed to feel safe with you guys if I can't even rely on you to be mentally present? How could you possibly help me with this kid? What if Dean and Cas are away, or Dean's drunk and Cas is gone, and it's just us, huh? What if you check out again and we get attacked- or, or the baby gets kidnapped or hurt. What if _I_ get hurt and can't take care of him? You wouldn't even care at that point. You probably wouldn't listen to me then either. You know what? I'd rather leave and live alone than even _think_ about going through that. I never want my baby to feel as rejected as I do right now." And the sobs were back, rattling around my chest, choking my words. Tears fell freely, landing unceremoniously on Sam's shirt. "Because this? This is worse than being beaten to death."

I punched his good shoulder- my alternative to slapping him because that black eye looked nasty enough already- and got up. I left his room and didn't look back.

Taking a walk seemed like the only way I would have a chance of cooling down after that. I was halfway to the front door when a hand landed on my shoulder. "I'm just taking a walk, Dean. I'm not running away this time. Go back to bed." I brushed it off and kept going.

"Ali?"

That stopped me dead in my tracks. I turned slowly.

My mind wasn't playing tricks on me. It really was Sam, standing there in bare feet, his shirt partly soaked, his jeans crusted with blood, his hair a mess, and his left arm supporting his right painfully against his chest to take pressure off of his shoulder. He was red eyed like a funeral and flushed like a middle school crush.

 _He came_.

"What?" I snapped. The time for happily-ever-after reconciliation was long past. He had some serious work to do if he wanted to make up for this little episode of his.

"Are you- Is this…" His voice was so soft I almost couldn't hear him, even in the vast, empty silence of the war room.

"Is it what, Sam?" There was no taking the edge out of my voice now. If I took it out, I wouldn't be able to speak at all.

"Real?"

Instantly, all my anger, all my frustration was gone. I felt my tense body start to relax as my face fell into a worried mess. "You don't think I'm real?" I asked quietly, my voice well and truly on its way out after all that shouting and sobbing. "Why- why would you think that?"

Sam looked about ready to fall off the edge again, but he took a deep breath and pushed on. "I don't know. I don't know. I-I…" He was stammering, searching for words that weren't there.

I walked closer to him, stopping just a few feet away. "Sam, you were asleep for a long time. I don't know if you had a nightmare or you started hallucinating when you woke up or what. But I'm real. And you're real."

I couldn't help but notice how his gaze fell to my stomach for just a split second before he looked up again, a desperate innocence in his eyes.

A gentle smile crept onto my face. How could he just melt all that rage away with a few words and some well-aimed glances? "The baby is real too." I whispered, laughing while somehow also sobbing for a few seconds afterward.

"So… so this isn't gonna go away in a few minutes?"

I shook my head. "You'd have to try pretty hard to make that happen."

"Ali?" He repeated his earlier question, a tiny spark of light returning to his eyes.

"Who did you think I was, you big doofus?" For the first time in days, happiness colored my smile. _He's back._

"I'm sorry." Sam's eyes left mine and searched the floor before closing altogether, his face contorting in something that looked like pain. He barely got the words out before lost it. His good hand flew up to press on his temples and he turned, the ragged, gasping breaths seeming to echo off the concrete walls. I started to go to him- a feeling like gravity pulled me in- but he took off, blindly making his way down the hall.

"Sam, wait." I called, following him. He was moving fast; I had to run to catch his door before it swung shut. I shoved it open and barged right in, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him around to face me. "Don't you walk away from me like that. Never again."

It happened so fast. One moment I was pissed and glaring daggers at him and the next I was encased in his arms and held so tightly I couldn't have escaped if I wanted to.

Not that I wanted to. Automatically, I wound my arms around him, squeezing tight and holding on for dear life. "You're shaking." I said quietly, trying my hardest to not be mad anymore. It wasn't helping anything and I knew it. But it was hard to just stop feeling the very real sense of worthlessness that had been building in me all day, serving as fuel for my frustration and anger.

All he did was press his lips to the top of my head and linger there for a few seconds. I huffed one tired laugh; being shorter than all your friends had its limitations, but boy did it have its perks. Even so, I didn't wait long before I pulled away from him.

He looked rough. That was the price of 'ugly cry' I guess. I didn't completely let go, though; slowly but forcefully, I pushed him down to sit on the bed. He looked up at me with confusion, hurt, and exhaustion swirling in those hazel pools; he seemed so small with his hands in his lap and his shoulders carrying the weight of the world. "I'm not leaving. It's okay."

Sam just nodded and looked away, trying to get his breathing under control. I noticed the med kit laying forgotten on the floor near his dresser. Gently, I touched the inside of his right wrist- the arm with the bruise- and found a healthy pulse. _Good sign._ Sam didn't seem to flinch when I touched his shoulder either. The med kit had one very cheap sling tucked away under a box of gauze, but it was just what I needed. Sam held still while I put his arm in the sling and tightened it to take the weight of his arm off of his shoulder. _That should keep it from getting worse, at least. It'll probably be fine in a few days. Moves like nothing is torn or broken, so that's good._

He hadn't stopped staring blankly at the floor by the time I closed up the med kit.

I sighed and crossed my arms, once again at a loss. I decided to say the only thing that seemed to make sense in this stupid situation. "I still love you, Sam."

His only response was to close his eyes. Rejection swept through me like a tornado through corn country. _He was just getting my hopes up. Sure does know how to push my buttons._ I bit my lip to keep from breaking down as I headed for the door. Silence was his apparently his new best friend.

Or so I thought. "I miss the sound of your voice." The words were barely there, not really sung so much as just pushed out with all the effort he had left in his tired, battered body.

A slow smile broke through the tears still wetting my cheeks. Facing him, I felt the burn of rejection fade away. "And I miss the rush of your skin."

"I miss the still of the silence, as you breathe out, and I breathe in." Sam hung his head, still focusing on breathing even as he let his walls start to collapse.

"I missed the sound of your voice." I said, going to him and putting one hand gently on his good shoulder. I leaned in and planted a kiss on the top if his head, lingering longer that I thought I would.

His smile- no matter how tearful, or snotty, or worn, or short-lived it was- brought a warmth back to my heart that I hadn't realized was missing. "Loudest thing in my head." He looked up at me, just a glance before his head hung again and he took another deep breath, but it was a start.

"And I ache to remember all the quiet, sweet, perfect words that you said."

His eyes met mine fully that time, shame shining bright. "Ali, what can I do to… to make up for-"

"Just pull me down hard and drown me in love." I said, pushing his back to the bed as I climbed over him. I settled with a knee on either side of his body and an elbow on either side of his head. My face was held as close to his as I dared. There was no way he was hiding those eyes from me again.

For a moment he searched my face, weary shock written all over him. The weary shock became confused surprise. His surprised expression quickly melted into the happiest crying/laughing face I'd ever seen.

This time it was my turn to be surprised. He caught me behind the neck and pulled me down for the perfect kiss. When he let go I just stared at him, unable to hide my disbelief at the sudden turn of events.

"I'll make you believe." He finally stopped crying and was now just grinning like a fool.

"And I'll help you forget." The sob/laugh that left me at that moment dispelled the last of my doubt that Sam would be okay.

"I love you."

* * *

 **A/N: SQUEEE! He finally said it without being a siren-zombie! Whew. Now, onto the subject of that little one...**

 **Leave me words! See you next week!**


	49. Pie and Other Desserts

**A/N: Vivi here! Surprise! It's a mini-chapter! (Because it stands well on its own but it's short and the next one stands on its own but is longer and I didn't want to post one massive chapter because I'm mean.) Also, fair warning: This is the second to last chapter of this fic. Surprise...**

 **Warnings from all the other chapters apply.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"I'll make you believe." He finally stopped crying and was now just grinning like a fool._

 _"And I'll help you forget." The sob/laugh that left me at that moment dispelled the last of my doubt that Sam would be okay._

 _"I love you."_

* * *

"You made a black raspberry pie just for me." Sam said, seemingly unable to believe that what I told him was true.

I looked up at him. No part of me wanted to move away from his side, where I was perfectly cuddled up and resting my head on his good shoulder. I tugged myself closer with an arm over his belly, rubbing my thumb over the soft fabric of his shirt once I was where I wanted to be. "Sure did."

"So… why black raspberry? Why not apple or pumpkin or something?" He asked. "Those berries aren't easy to come by."

Had I been a cat at any point in time, I would've started purring when he absently ran his fingers along my back, under my shirt, slowly and rhythmically. My eyes slid closed and I felt like I was melting. "Mmm…"

"Still awake?" His voice was much softer.

"It's your favorite." _How am I tired already? I slept for so long…_

"Who told you that?" A quiet series of coughs echoed through his chest and reminded me that _both_ Winchesters were sick now. Sam had been going downhill ever since our little episode at the frozen river. Dean, on the other hand, was probably beat down by stress, exposure, and the slew of nasties that were undoubtedly brought in by all the patrons of that club.

 _This is gonna be a fun week._ "Little birdie."

He laughed. "Is that little birdie's name Dean?"

"He said he owed you one."

There was quiet for a few seconds. I was starting to understand why when Dean was tiny, he wouldn't go to sleep until he heard someone's heartbeat. It was very comforting. Especially when it was someone you love. "Why would he owe me?"

"Didn't say."

"Huh."

I started giggling when Sam's stomach complained- rather loudly- at the thought of food. "Somebody's not happy."

I was pretty sure Sam rolled his eyes, but I couldn't tell from where I was laying. "Somebody was on the back burner. Bigger fish."

Lazily, I propped myself up on my elbow so I could look him in the face. "If I hadn't stopped you before third base you'd a passed out on me, Winchester. Not fair to put a girl through that." I pretended to pout before a sleepy smile pushed it away. "Let's get you some food."

"Uh, the pie is probably soggy by now." Sam glanced over at the desk, where the pie and ice cream sat forgotten. Sure enough, most of the pie had collapsed into a murky white soup.

"Then we'll find real food. And after that, _maybe_ some pie, if you think you can handle it. Sound like a deal?"

"Bossy." Sam smirked when I punched his good shoulder playfully.

"C'mon." We left Sam's room and I led him into the kitchen, tugging his left hand the whole way. "Sit." I pointed to the table and set about reheating a bowl of the soup I made earlier.

"What time is it?" He asked, sounding very confused.

"Right around seven." I shrugged. "Why?"

"Seven? In the morning? Or at night?"

"Night."

He looked slightly disturbed by the new information. "How long was I asleep?"

"Eighteen hours or so. Dean said you woke up around eight this morning. Do you remember that?" I asked, suddenly wondering if he really _had_ been lucid this morning like Dean said.

"Uh, I think so. He- uh, he patched me up and told me you were alive, and that the…" He cleared his throat after an awkward pause. "The _baby_ is okay, too. I didn't believe him."

"I could tell."

"You were right y'know, earlier."

"Women are always right, Sam."

I had my back turned, working at the stove, but I was pretty sure he rolled his eyes at me again. "I did have nightmares. But they weren't like… nightmares. It was a whole bunch of different places, different times. Some of them were really stressful-"

"Stressful?" I turned look at him. "That's what your nightmares are? Not, oh, I don't know, terrifying? Adrenaline pumping? Mind numbing? Cuz that's what mine are."

"You know what I mean. I'm used to those kinds of nightmares, but these were weird. Some of them were awesome. Like, best day of my life awesome. But then, the last one…" He trailed off and looked away. The room was silent until he let go of a loaded sigh. "The last one really stung."

"Tell me about it." I left the pot on the stove to continue warming up and went to join Sam at the table. "Maybe it'll help."

"No."

A frown settled on my face. "Why not?"

"You said you'd help me forget, right?" Sam asked. At first I thought he was joking, just trying to change the subject or something, but there was an actual question in his eyes.

"Yes."

"I don't want to relive that ever again." He looked away, as if he was ashamed.

"Then you don't have to." I said softly. "But don't shut me out again. I want _you_ , Sam. Not some empty shell of a man."

Sam and I looked up as an almighty sneeze echoed through the kitchen. Dean was in the doorway, still wrapped in the blanket, still shivering, but now with a bright red nose; I wondered where he'd found tissues. I hadn't left him any. "How was the pie?" Dean asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

I went to go check the soup while Dean shuffled over to sit across from Sam at the table. My nerves were set on edge when Sam didn't speak. I glanced at the pair to see Dean staring guiltily at Sam's arm, trapped in the sling. Sam looked like he was genuinely trying to form words, but nothing came out.

"Feelin' any better?" Dean asked patiently, sniffing the snot up into his nose. I wanted to throw a box of tissues at him for doing that, but I was out of ammo. Didn't even know if we had any in the storage closet.

"Y-yeah. A little." Sam said quietly. "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm studying for a role in the upcoming movie 'Dean's a Douche'. The one where he yells at his brother for having a breakdown and then proceeds to take his own nosedive. The whole thing is really about this rockin' heroine, though. She saves 'em both at the last second. Slaps some sense into 'em. Bombshell of a babe, too." I could hear the grin in Dean's voice.

"What happened? A cold isn't a nosedive." Sam said, his tone conveying his confusion.

"It is when you get sloshed while you have the flu." I said, bringing two bowls of the reheated soup to the table. "Eat." I grabbed my own bowl and the three of us ate in peaceful silence.

"Feel like I haven't slept in days." Dean said as he nearly nodded off into his empty bowl after all of us had finished. "This sucks."

"And it will continue to suck to the maximum degree of suck-age for at least twelve more hours. Or until your liver finally clears all that booze and lets your body start healing itself." I said sternly. "Make sure you drink a ton of water."

"Can do." Dean got up and put his bowl in the sink before heading for the hallway.

"You don't want pie?" I asked, surprised that he would skip out on one of his favorite things.

"Couldn't hold it down if I wanted to. Soup's hard enough." Dean shrugged tiredly and tugged the blanket closer around his shoulders. "Save me some?"

"We will." Sam said with a sympathetic grin.

Dean returned the grin, but his was a bit more… shit-eating. "Hope it's as good as those cherry undies, college-boy."

Sam flushed such a deep red that I was afraid he'd pass out. Dean laughed the whole way to his bedroom and I just didn't have it in me to ask what the hell that was all about.

* * *

As expected, Sam loved the pie.

He loved the dessert afterward even more.

* * *

I woke up to the whole bed moving as Sam struggled to stop a particularly violent coughing fit. We'd managed to thoroughly wear ourselves out last night, which wasn't really necessary but was _so_ necessary after the day we both had, and I thought maybe a long peaceful sleep would help Sam heal up quicker.

Guess a few hours of rest wasn't enough to heal whatever bug Sam had picked up.

"Y'okay?" I asked, stretching my arms and rolling over to face him. Unconsciously, I pulled the blankets closer to my chest to hide the goods as if Sam and I hadn't spent hours yesterday enjoying each other's company.

He looked worse than yesterday. "I'll live."

"You better." I mumbled, taking in the sunken eyes and exhausted expression. "We need to talk."

He turned his head on the pillow to look at me. "We've been talking."

"Not like that. We need to have _the_ talk."

His eyes narrowed. "And what exactly is _the_ talk?"

I bit my lip and dropped my eyes to watch my hands play with the hem of the blanket at my chest. "Y'know…"

"I don't think I do."

Glancing up at his confused hazel eyes, I took a deep breath. Then I moved one of my hands to my stomach and patted the blanket there.

"Oh. That talk." I heard Sam swallow uncomfortably. "Well, uh, when did you wanna do that?"

"Today. We have to call Cas and wake Dean. They should be there for that conversation."

"Why?"

 _Because he might not be yours. Because all of you deserve to know what Francesca did to you. Because Cas will understand and help me explain things when I freeze up._ "This isn't just about us."

Sam nodded slowly, turning away to cough into his elbow. When he turned back a moment later, there was a gentle kindness in his eyes. "I know. But it could be, if you really wanted it to."

"What?"

"Ali, the bunker isn't exactly the best place to raise a child. You deserve better."

"Sam-"

"We could move into a house nearby. Or further away, maybe start a semi-normal life."

"No, Sam-"

"Find a good school system, somewhere safe with nothing weird going on. Close to Bobby, maybe. He acts like he hates it, but he used to love babysitting us when we were little. He could watch the kid if we need a break. Dean could too, I suppose, if he wanted to move with us. I doubt he'd give up hunting, but maybe-"

" _Sam._ " I rested my hand on his cheek and drew him back to reality. "We're not going anywhere."

"But the bunker-"

"Is the safest place for us right now. I'm still on the most wanted list, both of you have warrants out for your arrest, and demons have been _literally_ stalking us lately. We can't just throw caution to the wind and go all apple-pie right now. It's not safe." I said quietly, watching his face fall. "I'm not saying it'll never happen. Just… not now, okay?"

"I just want you to be safe."

"I will be."

* * *

 **A/N: Leave me a review! Also, for the next few chapters that are left to post, I'm asking all of you if you'd read and enjoy another (and probably final) fic starring our boys and Ali/Baby. Just to, y'know, tie up loose ends... I'm apologizing in advance for the last two chapters in this fic... So, shall I continue? Let me know!**


	50. No Matter What

**A/N: Vivi here! So I have to apologize. I told you there were like three more chapters, but this is it. I went back and edited the A/N in the last chapter so I wouldn't break too many future hearts. I know. I'm a lying, cliffhanging, heart-wrenching meanie pants. But I do read all my reviews and messages (sorry, I don't reply to a lot of them, graduate school kind of sucks my time away), and I've gotten the feeling that you guys are tired of cliffhangers. So I cut the last two chapters off of this fic, and they'll be the first two of the next one. That way Family Practice wraps up with a warm and fuzzy, feel good ending with very few cliffhangers for those of you who have really been looking forward to this moment!**

 **Also, I'm so struggling to come up with a name for the next fic. I know you guys don't know the plot yet, but I'm open to suggestions! Let me know if you have any title ideas in the review box below!**

* * *

 _Previously on Family Practice:_

 _"I just want you to be safe."_

 _"I will be."_

* * *

We had cereal for breakfast. No one felt like cooking and Dean was barely conscious when he woke up and stumbled out of his room in search of coffee at noon. I figured that once they had full bellies and plenty of liquid energy in them, we could start _the_ talk. No use in putting a ton of effort into a big breakfast to placate them; they'd have the same reaction regardless.

Food wouldn't provide any kind of cushion for something like this.

 _Hey Cas. It's me. We're all at the bunker. Sam and Dean are sick, but you already knew that… Anyway, I- uh, I could use your help. I'm going to tell the guys the truth. If I don't chicken out at the last second and-_

A resounding set of metallic thumps echoed through the whole bunker before they had me jumping from my seat in the kitchen and walking fast to the front door.

"What's goin' on?" Dean asked lazily as I rushed out.

Sure enough, it was Cas standing on the other side of that big iron door, his figure warped a little through the aperture. I tugged the door open and gave him a sheepish, guilty smile. "Hi Cas."

"You will not 'chicken out'." He said as he pushed past me. There was absolutely zero humor in his voice.

 _Here we go._

I followed Cas into the kitchen, where Sam was just approaching the doorway, probably to follow me and make sure I wasn't going crazy. "Hey Cas." Sam seemed surprised to see the angel in the bunker. That is, until he looked at me and realized with a not-so-quiet sigh that yes, it was time for _the_ talk.

"How's it goin', Feathers?" Dean asked, sipping on his coffee while the rest of us joined him at the table.

"My name is Castiel." Cas said gruffly, glaring momentarily at the hunter wrapping in a blanket.

"Alrighty then, grumpy-Cas." Dean muttered and returned his attention to his coffee.

"So now that I have you all in the same room, I wanted to have a meeting. A family meeting… a-about…" I started, freezing up when all eyes fell on me.

"The baby." Sam filled in gently, resting his elbows on the table and running one hand through his hair.

"Uh, yeah." I glanced at Dean and saw suspicion flare up in his eyes as he wrapped his hands around his coffee mug. _He doesn't think the kid is Sam's. He doesn't think he's a Winchester at all. How am I going to convince Dean and Sam that this baby could be either of theirs? They have no reason to believe me; for all they know, I'm lying to cover my ass and stay safe, get them to raise my kid for me. Why did I think this conversation would be a good idea? There's no way it'll lead to anything good-_

"What about him?" Dean asked, putting on his neutral tone.

"It's a he? You already know?" Sam perked up, looking to me for confirmation.

"Well… I don't actually know. Just feels like a 'he'." I shrugged, feeling another wave of guilt crush over me.

Sam's face didn't falter at all; he looked almost close to a smile. "So you can feel him?"

"Yeah, that's kinda why we need to talk."

Once again, I had all eyes on me. Cas' were demanding, waiting for me to speak up and finally fill the guys in on our little secret. Dean's were professionally blank, the kind of poker face earned from years of practice and refined in a 'trial by fire' technique perfected by John Winchester himself. Sam was just confused.

"Maybe we should start with questions…" I said quietly after the long silence I took to try and figure out how to start the conversation. I was kind of hoping one of them would say something while I struggled, but no such luck.

"How far along are you?" Dean asked almost immediately, his eyes never leaving my face. I looked at him in shock, my cheeks getting hot as my mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to form coherent words. Sam looked from Dean to me, seeming to be almost as surprised as I was. And why shouldn't he be? He thought the kid wasn't even a week old yet. Why ask a silly question like that when Dean knew just as well as he did that there had been a massive 'oops' not five days ago?

"Twelve weeks." This time, my panicking eyes shot to Cas, who was glaring at Dean's surprised look. The angel's words hung like a suffocating cloud in the air. _What the hell, Cas? Heaven forbid you help me ease them into it._

I could feel my throat closing up and my heart beat faster within three seconds. Everything in me told me to _get up, get out, before they kick you out. Leaving is better than being evicted, right?_

"T-twelve _weeks_?" Sam stuttered, his gaze jumping from me to Cas and back again. "But how- you- we… _Twelve_ _weeks?!_ "

He was no longer the calm and cool Sam I knew. His cheeks flushed to match mine, but the source of his color was very apart from my own. Those normally soft hazel eyes were hard and calculating, all signs of trust and respect wiped away by those two little words.

In Sam's mind, he'd just lost his child, _again_. He'd lost his best chance at normal.

I had to close my eyes to keep from fleeing or having a panic attack. It was fifty fifty at that point. There was silence while I battled myself in my head, trying to keep the shame and fear and, well, the entire range of emotions from manifesting in sobs or an escape attempt. _If I can just- I just need to explain. They'll understand if I explain-_

"That was right after we got the demon out of you." Sam's voice was much more reserved this time around. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "You… We didn't leave you alone at all after that. And you and me didn't… There's no way you could've…"

"The demon." Dean said suddenly, shock in his tone. "Did she do this to you?"

I hung my head and tried to take deep breaths. "I'm sorry." I whispered, emotion leaking into my words despite my best efforts.

"Why are you sorry?" Sam asked, confusion thick in his voice. "Was it the demon or not?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." I said as loudly as I could. My voice was nothing more than a loud whisper. "I was scared."

"Scared of what?" Sam's voice was soft now. That alone made it so much easier for me to think.

"Rejection. Abandonment. Isolation." I listed off just a few of my reasons in a monotone, trying to keep my voice even.

"Li." Dean leaned in closer across the table. "Hey. Look at me." Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and looked at Dean with blurry vision. "You're not going anywhere, okay? We talked about this."

"Right."

"We all on the same page now?" Sam asked, looking from Dean to me.

"Yeah. Got it." A tiny sliver of a smile eked onto my face before it disappeared.

"Now we need details, Li. Anything you can give us." Dean said before taking another sip of his coffee.

Sam started coughing, so I used that as an excuse to not talk for a few seconds. He stopped coughing before I came up with anything good to say. I sighed, trying to send all the fear out with the breath. "Yes, it was Francesca. She- uh… she raped some people." My voice was a shaky murmur.

"Were you hurt?"

"Did you get an STD?"

"Are you okay?"

I took another deep breath and felt some tension roll out of my shoulders; of course they would be worried about me. They cared. They were family. Maybe… this could turn out okay. "Yes and no. She was… rough. A lot of tearing and bleeding and rug burn. Bruises. I was sore for a while, that's all. No infection."

"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to find a way, and I'm going to kill her. Why would she do that?" Sam growled, clearly upset by the news. I would be too. In fact, I still was. "She was obsessed with you, why would she hurt you like that? I didn't think those things even wanted that anymore. "

"They were people at one time, Sam. Some habits just don't die." I said softly, swinging one leg under my seat. _Tell them. They need to know what Francesca wanted to do. They deserve to know. It's important._

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "She- she didn't just… She wasn't in it for the thrill. Not that time."

"What?"

I hung my head, not wanting them to see the fear and dread on my face. "She needed a child."

"What are you talk-"

"She needed _my_ child."

There was silence until Cas spoke, a long few seconds later. "Explain."

"It- that's why she killed my family. The blood of five generations… it's part of a curse she wants to put on me." _One more deep breath, then you have to say it._ The breath wasn't nearly long enough. "It would seal her inside me for centuries." I took another breath through my mouth, since my nose was now completely plugged. "She took some ancestor of mine and wore her around for _decades._ The bitch liked that body so much that when she broke out of hell again, she found her bloodline. _My_ bloodline. And she chose me. Made me kill everyone else while she collected the blood of all four living generations of my family. She- she didn't know…" My crossed arms dropped down to my stomach, still hugging myself.

"Kole." Sam said quietly, the horror in his voice not masked in the slightest.

I nodded quickly and kept going. "She only got four generations because she killed Kole and Cas… removed him. So she had to make a new generation. Using my bloodline. Using me."

"How do you know all this?" Dean asked, sounding skeptical. "She tell you?"

"No. A shifter working for her let the secret slip. He… didn't last much longer after that." I tried not to see the shifter, who had taken on the form of Dean, laying on the floor with his neck at an unnatural angle. "She filled in the details here and there after that."

"She was using you to grow an ingredient? She got you pregnant for a curse to possess you forever that requires the blood of _your own_ _baby_?" Dean snapped, his tone growing more angered by the minute.

"It wouldn't be forever. Vessels wear out eventually." I said quietly.

"If I could kill that bitch-"

"Ali, are you okay?"

Slowly, I looked up, my face revealing my confusion. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" Sam repeated, leaning in just a little.

"Yeah. I mean… I'm fine. Everything healed up and-"

"Not what I meant."

I just stared at him for a while, not connecting the dots he set out. He proceeded to connect them for me. "Are you… I don't know… coping? I mean, you were _raped_. That's not something someone just bounces back from. And on top of that, you got pregnant. Conceived a child with the guy. And there's a demon, still alive, that wants to kill the baby to seal itself inside you, effectively killing you. You know you almost… faded out when she had you last time. You almost died. She'd kill you on the spot if she got you again." Sam said, talking like I was the only other person in the room. "You can't just be okay with that."

"I'm not." I said, swallowing back the lump that formed in my throat. "I've been struggling for the past twelve weeks, but… he's a miracle no matter how he came to be. I'm keeping him. No matter what. Even if there's a chance Francesca could use him against me."

" _We_ 're keeping him." Dean said firmly. "You're not going anywhere without us. Not in your condition."

I almost sneered at 'your condition'. _Like I can't still do things while pregnant. It's not a disability. I don't need pampered and coddled. Save that for the kid._

"No one is asking you to terminate, Ali. We would never." Sam frowned. "We know how much he must mean to you."

"Your very own rainbow baby." Dean said with a gentle smile.

I crumbled a little, a tiny grin leaking onto my lips. "How do you even know what that is?"

"I read." He shrugged, returning to his coffee.

Sam looked lost, but continued nonetheless. "If you ever need to talk, we're here for you."

"I know." I rolled my eyes, looking down at the table as I wiped a bit of moisture from my eye.

"So… when did it happen? If you're comfortable talking about it, that is." Sam asked slowly, carefully.

I froze. "When did what happen?"

"When did she hurt you?"

I dreaded looking back at him, anticipating the rejection and disappointment I'd find in his face. _Yeah, he cares, but he won't want to be with me ever again. I'm stained. I'm ruined. He probably can't even look at me. Probably regrets last night already._ I held my breath as I forced my eyes to meet Sam's.

There was no rejection. There was no disappointment. There was worry, there was pain, there was… shame? A shaky, shocked breath slipped out before I knew what was happening.

"It could not have been more than five days before she was freed. Gametes can only survive for a few days before they degenerate if not fertilized." Cas said flatly. He had his own way of moving the conversation along, I guess.

I chose to ignore him. _This is it… What if they freak out? What if they can't live with seeing me every day and knowing what I did to them? They might fight over the kid- or worse, change their minds and fight with me over terminating. Both of them have made it very clear how bad this timing is. I know all that, but this is_ my _baby, too. No way in hell I'm letting some Winchester take him away from me._ "It was- it was just before Dean shot me." I said, wincing as I remembered how much he hated himself for what he'd done. _Why did I bring that up? It won't help anything and it's gonna hurt Dean._ "She assaulted three people. Three men."

"Five days, Cas?" Dean asked with his eyes narrowed.

"At the most, yes."

 _Oh right. Cas doesn't know what happened to him either. The guys have to know but… Maybe I could skirt around that part and just focus on the guys. Cas said the kid was human, so…_

"So, we pulled the demon out. That's one day." Dean said.

"And Bobby brought me back from the hospital the day before, so that's two." Sam interjected. I didn't expect him to remember the events around that time very well. He'd been laid up with a bad leg injury and those painkillers were pretty strong.

"You got back that same day, Sam." Dean corrected. "In the afternoon. We dragged it out that night."

"One day then."

"I spent like a three and a half days trying to get information from that bitch while she was in the dungeon."

"So that's four and a half days?"

Dean shook his head. "That half day was after Bobby brought you back. He, uh… he tried to help." For a moment, I tried to decipher the expression that shot across Dean's face. It was like anger and betrayal and shame all in one, but it was gone too quick for me to make out exactly what it was.

"Four days, then. And there would have been no way for her to have any of… _that_ kind of contact in that time, right?" Sam asked, looking to Dean. He knew Cas was out cold for the entire period in question; Bobby brought both of them back from the hospital at the same time. They came home to a drunken Dean in the library and a bloody demon cuffed and tied to a chair in the dungeon.

 _They're gonna figure it out on their own. But there's no way…_

"Right." Dean said, scrubbing one hand over his face as he thought. "I woke up at the hospital before all that and found Li a couple hours later. That was the day I started with the questions, so still four days by then."

"What happened the day before that? That's the last day it could have happened, right?" Sam looked to me at that point. "I mean, I know we ambushed the demon that day and it got away. We went to Dad's old safe house to regroup… What did the demon do between escaping the motel and drugging us in that house, Ali?"

"I- she, uh… she knocked me out for a lot of it. We went to a fancy hotel. She told me what she was going to do to you." My next words stuck in my throat and I allowed my mouth to shut, looking down at my arms; my hands were wringing together almost painfully.

 _Nut up, girl. They need to know. This isn't just your kid. He has a father, and he's going to want to know his father. And Daddy will probably want to know his kid, whoever he turns out to be. This isn't about you anymore. It never was._ I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the long awaited reveal.

"The safe house." Sam said quietly, realization sweeping over his face as soon as I looked up.

I felt the blood leave my cheeks. _He- he figured it out? But how…?_

"I had blood literally _everywhere_ on my clothes when they gave them back at the hospital, but most of my injuries were arms and legs and feet, nothing really severe enough to make it that far. Not, uh, all the way down there." Sam said, looking to Dean and blushing lightly. "Did you…?"

"Yeah." It was little more than a whisper. Dean's eyes, alarmed, flew from Sam to me. "And you- you had a really long cycle that month, or I thought you did. There was so much blood soaked into your pants when we pulled the demon- I thought your period was the only way that could've happened. I had you in that chair for days, no change of clothes or anything. And I didn't have any real bleeders, but I had blood on my pants in questionable places just like Sam. The nurse almost had 'em destroyed they were so bad."

"Cas? You were there, too. Do you remember anything?" Sam asked, pulling his gaze away from me to fix those distressed eyes on the angel. "Were you bloody too?"

 _Oh, c'mon, Sam…_ I whined in my head, shame making me grimace and blush more than I had been the whole conversation.

If ever I had seen the angel caught off guard and dumbstruck, it was that moment. Cas turned to me, slowly looking more and more horrified and panicked. The stare was heavy- like I'd just kicked a puppy or something. I had to look away, back to my wringing hands to keep them from shaking. It was a good long while before Cas spoke up, his voice quiet but guarded. "Yes, but it was not my blood on much of my clothing."

"Three men?" Dean asked. All eyes were on me as I looked up, keeping my head low and avoiding eye contact.

I nodded numbly. _I'm not ready. I was wrong I'm not ready for them to know I can't do this they can't know yet I can't-_

"Ali." The word hit me like a wall of water, almost making me flinch. The kindness, softness of the tone had me fighting back tears. Sam waited until I looked up to continue. Everything seemed to stand still in that moment. I saw Dean's look of unnerved realization and Cas' disbelieving and glazed over eyes, both making me feel like bugs were starting to crawl under my skin. Like I was some kind of freak, something to be done away with, discarded, or hidden. I couldn't look at them anymore.

But then there was Sam. Cool, collected Sam. With the idea of me being unfaithful or careless totally off the table now, he was the lighthouse in the storm. I didn't see any judgement in those eyes.

"Is there something you want to tell us?" Sam couldn't have said anything to make me feel worse.

"I'm sorry! I couldn't stop her!" I yelled, feeling like a cornered animal. The tears broke loose and started streaming down my face. Waves of anger and fear and betrayal and anxiety and hopelessness and shame washed over me. _They'll hate me for not telling them. There's no other way this could go down._

I stood from the table as quickly as I could and ran for the library doorway. _Twenty seconds and I could be out. I can't outrun them, but if I hide-_ Someone stood up to follow me, but I ground to a halt just before the threshold anyway. A part of me- most of me- couldn't take another step.

I'd been running during this whole pregnancy. Running from responsibilities, from my anxieties, from rejection; running from the truth. _I don't want to run anymore._

Slowly, I wiped the tears from my face and turned. Sam was right behind me, looking all kinds of worried. Just to his right and a few feet back, I saw Dean, his blanket forgotten, body swaying slightly with a look of hope and apprehension on his face. Cas was nowhere to be seen, but as expected, when I glanced over my shoulder, he stood in the library doorway probably ready to herd me back into the fray should I make it that far. _'You will not chicken out'. You certainly are an angel of your word._

I looked down to the ground and crossed my arms, taking a deep breath and sniffing my nose pathetically. One short, personal pep talk later, I looked up and addressed both Winchesters. "I'm sorry. For that. I- I shouldn't have walked away." I took a deep breath, waiting for one of them to speak. When they didn't, I continued, trying to make eye contact no matter how difficult it was. "She woke me up in that house and told me she needed you for 'just a moment'." I made dramatic air quotes and rolled my eyes before wiping more tears away. "She showed me you guys- all three of you- out cold in a room upstairs. There were demons everywhere downstairs, outside… They were Francesca's followers, making sure her plan came to fruition. She knocked me out and by the time I fought back to the surface-"

My voice broke and I closed my eyes to continue, hugging myself tighter. "She was done. And then she said she was going to break every bone in your bodies and then kill you before she killed me. You were already beaten and bloody and bruised and I just… You know why you had blood where you found it, and it wasn't yours." I opened my eyes but looked once again at the clean cement floor. I didn't want to see the expressions that were surely splayed all over my friend's faces. "I couldn't let her hurt you any more. I fought back and sent the demons away and ran a cruiser into a tree but she _still_ wouldn't die. I wanted you to leave me behind to get her out of your lives. She's dangerous and she's not after you, not really. This is all on me. I didn't know… I didn't know that this would happen, that this even _could_ happen. The baby, he- he's human. Cas said so, right after he could see him. Not a demon, not an-"

Two big arms wrapped me up in a warm embrace. I melted into Sam and held him tightly, hanging on for dear life, managing to keep sobbing from happening for the time being. What felt like an entire week's worth of held breaths blew out of me in a sigh that might have just cleaned my soul.

"We're not going anywhere." Sam said gently, not loosening his grip in the slightest.

"No matter what." Dean said, walking closer but making no move to break up the hug. "I wouldn't miss meeting my nephew for the world."

That broke up the hug. I heard a soft whoosh, accompanied by a light draft; Cas was gone. "But-" Sam started to speak, confusion written all over him as he let go of me and turned to his brother.

"No buts about it. Junior's yours, Sam. Always has been. And I promise I'm not just trying to be a deadbeat. I want in on raisin' him, but that space on the certificate is all yours, kid." Dean clapped Sam on his good shoulder and smiled at us like everything in the world was okay. "Congratulations, brother. Looks like Sasquatch and the Princess have a bun in the oven."

It took a few seconds, but Sam's face moved from utter confusion to resigned, happy, sincere gratitude.

I got my hug in, both Dean and I smiling like fools. "I'm not a princess, you selfless jerk."

For once, everything really was okay in our little world.

Who would have thought?

* * *

 **A/N: (Sighs happily.)** **If you wanted a happy ending to this series of fics, you should stop with this one. It's all nice and tied up with a pretty bow and only a couple loose ends. The next fic pulls on those loose ends until everything unravels. A few things to expect in the next installment of this plotline: knights, ghosts, comas, wings, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, waiting tables, and one very strange dungeon scene.**

 **Can't wait to see you at the next fic! Follow and favorite me (VirchowsTriadDuo, aka Vivi) down by the review box to stay up to date on the posting of the continuation story. I've got a couple more fics in the works, so I'll be sure to mention which one is which in the description of each.**

 **You've been great; I certainly enjoyed your reviews and reactions. I hoped you enjoyed reading Family Practice as much as I enjoyed writing it. See ya later! (Probably in a week…)**


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